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OF  THE 

UNiVERsrry  of  illiwms 


Page  57. 


Sergeant  Jasper , rescuing  the  American  prisoners . 


THE  LITE 

W 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION, 


p A CELEBRATED 

/ partisan  ©Steer 


IN  THE 


v r 


A'oiAmo.x.wiY  war, 


AGAINST  THE 


BRITISH  AND  TORIES 
IN  SOUTH  CAROLINA  AND  GEORGIA 

BY  BRIG  GEN.  P.  HORRY,  OF  MARICNJS  BRIGADE  : 
AN  DM.  L . WEEMS. 

% V 1 


wOn  Vernon’s  Chief,  why  lavish  all  our  lays? 

K Come,  honest  Muse,  and  sing  great  MaIlion’s  praise.” 
* 

# 

STEREOTYFED  BY  L. JOHNSON. 

PHILADELPHIA : 

PUBLISHED  BY  JOSEPH  ALLENS 

» AND  SOLD  BY  J.  GRIGG, 

No.  9 North  Fourth  Street. 


1829. 


Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania , to  wit : 

BE  IT  REMEMBERED,  That  on  the  twenty-fifth  (lay 
of  September,  in  the  forty-ninth  year  of  the  Independence  of  the 
United  States  of  America,  A.  D.  1824,  H.  C.  Carey  & I.  Lea,  of 
the  said  district,  have  deposited  in  this  office  the  title  of  a book,  the 
right  whereof  they  claim  as  proprietors,  in  the  words  following, 
to  wit  : 

u The  Life  of  Gen.  Francis  Marion,  a celebrated  partisan  officer  in 
“ the  Revolutionary  War,  against  the  British  and  Tories  in  South 
“•Carolina  and  Georgia.  By  Brigadier  General  P.  Horry,  of 
“ Marion’s  Brigade,  and  M.  L.  Weems. 

On  Vernon’s  Chief,  why  lavish  all  our  lays  ? 

“•  Come,  honest  Muse,  and  sing  great  Marion's  praise.” 
in  Conformity  to  the  Act  of  the  Congress  of  the  United  States, 
entitled,  u An  Act  for  the  Encouragement  of  Learning,  by  securing 
the  Copies  of  Maps,  Charts,  and  Books,  to  the  Authors  and  Proprie- 
tors of  such  Copies,  during  the  times  therein  mentioned.” — And  also 
to  the  Act,  entitled,  u An  Act  supplementary  to  an  Act,  entitled, 
w An  Act  for  the  Encouragement  of  Learning,  by  securing  the  Copies 
of  Maps,  Charts,  and  Books,  to  the  Authors  and  Proprietors  of 
such  Copies  during  the  times  therein  mentioned,  and  extending 
the  benefits  thereof  to  the  arts  of  designing,  engraving,  and  etching 
historical  and  other  prints.” 


N.  B.  The  above  Copy-Right  has  been  purchased  by  Joseph 
Allen,  and  is  regularly  transferred  to  him. 


Clerk  of  the  Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


D.  CALDWELL, 


PREFACE 


6 


Ac 


3 

i 


“0  T//J  T enemy  would  write  a book” — This, 

in  former  times,  passed  for  as  sore  an  evil  as  a good 
man  could  think  of  wishing  to  his  worst  enemy. — 
Whether  any  of  my  enemies  ever  wished  me  so  great 
an  evil,  I know  not.  But  certain  it  is,  I never  dream- 
ed of  such  a thing  as  writing  a book ; and  least  of  all 
a war  look . What,  I ! a man  here  under  the  frozen 
zone  and  grand  climacteric  of  my  days,  with  one  foot 
in  the  grave  and  the  other  hard  by,  to  quit  my  prayer 
book  and  crutches , (an  old  mams  best  companions ,) 
and  drawing  my  sword,  flourish  and  fight  over  again 
the  battles  of  my  youth. 

The*  Lord  forbid  me  such  madness  ! But  what  can 
cne  do  when  one’s  friends  are  eternally  teazing  him, 
as  they  are  me,  and  calling  out  at  every  whipstitch 
and  corner  of  the  streets,  “ Well,  but , sir , where's 
Marion  P where's  the  history  of  Marion , that  we  have 
so  long  been  looking  for  P" 

’Twas  in  vain  that  I told  them  I was  no  scholar, 
no  historian.  u God,”  said  I,  “ gentlemen,  has  made 
4 many  men  of  many  minds  one  for  this  thing  and 
another  for  that.  But  I am  morally  certain  he  never, 
made  me  for  a writer.  I did  indeed  once  underst  id 
something  about  the  use  of  a broad-sword ; but  as  to 
a pen,  gentlemen,  that’s  quite  another  part  of  speech. 
The  difference  between  a broad-sword  and  a pen, 
-entlemen,  is  prodigious ; and  it  is  not  every  officer, 
2t  me  tell  you,  gentlemen,  who  can,  like  Caesar,  fig^s 


O A 

f o 


IV 


PREFACE. 


you  a great  battle  with  his  sword  to-day,  and  fight  it 
ever  again  as  elegantly  with  his  pen  to-morrow.” 

u Burn  Caesar  /”  replied  they,  w and  his  book  too . 
Jf  it  were  written  in  letters  of  gold,  zee  would  not  read 
it.  What  have  honest  republicans  like  us  to  do  with 
*uch  an  ambitious  cut-throat  and  robber  ? Besides 
sir,  your  reasoning  about  scholarship,  and  fine  style, 
and  all  that,  does  not,  begging  your  pardon',  apply  at 
all  to  the  case  in  hand.  Small  subjects  indeed,  re- 
quire great  writers  to  set  them  off ; but  great  sub- 
jects require  no  such  artificial  helps  : like  true  beau- 
ties, they  shine  most  in  the  simplest  dress.  Marion 
is  one  of  this  sort : great  in  his  simplicity.  Then 
give  us  Marion — plain,  brave,  honest  Marion  ; that’s 
all  we  want,  sir.  And  you  can  do  this  better  than 
any  other  man.  You  have  known  him  longest;  have 
fought  closest  by  his  side  : and  can  best  tell  us  of  his 
noble  deeds.  And  surely  now,  after  all,  you  can’t 
bear  to  let  him  die,  and  all  his  great  actions,  and  be 
forgotten  forever.” 

This,  I confess,  went  to  the  quick,  and  roused  me 
completely.  “ What 7 Marion  forgotten  ?”  I exclaim- 
ed, “ Marion  forgotten!  and  by  me /”  No,  never! 
never  ! while  memory  looks  back  on  the  dreadful 
days  of  the  revolution ; when  a British  despot,  not 
the  nation,  (for  I esteem  them  most  generous,)  but 
& proud,  stupid,  obstinate,  despot,  trampling  the  holy 
charter  and  constitution  of  England’s  realm,  issued 
against  us,  (sons  of  Britons,)  that  most  unrighteous 
edict,  taxation  without  representation  ! and  then,  be- 
cause in  the  spirit  of  our  gallant  fathers,  we  bravely 
opposed  him,  he  broke  up  the  very  fountains  of  his 
malice,  and  let  loose  upon  us  every-  indescribable, 
unimaginable  curse  of  civil  war;  when  British  ar- 
mies, with  their  Hessian,  and  Indian,  and  tory  allies, 
overran  my  afflicted  country,  swallowing  up  its  fruits 
nd  filling  eve^ry  part  with  consternation ; when  no- 


PREFACE. 


V 


thing  was  to  he  seen  but  flying  crowds,  burning 
houses,  and  young  men,  (alas!  too  often,)  hangin  g 
upon  the  trees  like  dogs,  and  old  men  wringing  th'  ir 
withered  hands  over  their  murdered  boys,  and  wo- 
men and  children  weeping  and  flying  from  then 
ruined  plantations  into  the  starving  woods  * When  I 
think,  I say,  of  these  things,  oh  my  God  ! how  can  I 
ever  forget  Marion,  that  vigilant, undaunted  soldier, 
whom  thy  own  mercy  raised  up  to  scourge  such 
monsters,  and  avenge  his  country’s  wrongs. 

The  Washington  of  the  south,  he  steadily  pursued 
the  warfare  most  safe  for  vs,  and  most  fatal  to  our 
enemies.  He  taught  us  to  sleep  in  the  swamps,  to 
feed  on  roots,  to  drink  the  turbid  waters  of  the  ditch, 
to  prowl  nightly  round  the  encampments  of  the  foe 
like  lions  round  the  habitations  of  the  shepherds  who 
had  slaughtered  their  cubs.  Sometimes  he  taught  us 
to  fall  upon  the  enemy  by  surprise,  distracting  the. 
midnight  hour  with  the  horrors  of  our  battle ; at  other 
times,  when  our  forces  were  increased,  ho  led  us  on 
boldly  to  the  charge,  hewing  the  enemy  to  pieces, 
under  the  approving  light  of  day.  Oh,  Marion,  my 
friend ! my  friend ! never  can  I forget  thee.  Although 
thy  wars  are  all  ended,  and  thyself  at  rest  in  the 
grave,  yet  I see  thee  still.  I see  thee  as  thou  wert 
wont  to  ride,  most  terrible  in  battle  to  the  enemies  of 
thy  country.  Thine  eyes  like  balls  of  fire,  flamed  be- 
neath thy  lowering  brows.  But  lovely  still  wert  thou 
in  mercy,  thou  bravest  among  the  sons  of  men  ! For. 
soon  as  the  enemy  sinking  under  our  swords,  cried 
for  quarter,  thy  heart  swelled  with  commiseration, 
and  thy  countenance  was  changed,  even  as  the  coun- 
tenance of  a man  who  beheld  the  slaughter  of  his 
brothers.  The  basest  tory  who  could  but  touch  the$~ 
hem  of  thy  garment  was  safe.  The  avengers  of  blood 
stopped  short  in  thy  presence,  and  turned  away 
abashed  from  the  lightning  of  thine  eyes. 

A 2 


VI 


PREFACE# 


O that  my  pen  were  of  the  quill  of  the  swan  that 
sings  for  future  days ! then  shouldst  thou,  my  friend, 
receive  the  fulness  of  thy  fame.  The  fathers,  of  the 
years  to  come,  should  talk  of  thy  noble  deeds  ; and 
the  youth  yet  unborn  should  rise  up  and  call  thee 
blessed.  Fired  at  the  charm  of  thy  virtues,  they 
should  follow  thee  in  the  path  of  thy  glory,  and  ma.*e 
themselves  the  future  Marions  of  their  country. 


PETER  HORRY 


THE  LIFE 


OF 

GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Short  sketch  of  an  extraordinary  French  couple , viz 
the  grandfather  and  mother  of  our  hero — their 
early  and  happy  loves — cruel  persecution  of  thr. 
priests — final  expulsion  from  their  native  country — • 
providential  settlement  in  South  Carolina — their 
prosperous  and  exemplary  lives — singular  will  of 
old  Marion — and  birth  of  his  grandson , Francis . 

Immortal  may  their  memory  be 
Who  fought  and  bled  for  liberty. 

ONE  thousand  seven  hundred  and  thirty-two  was 
a glorious  year  for  America.  It  gave  birth  to  two  of 
the  noblest  thunderbolts  of  her  wars,  George  Wash- 
ington and  Francis  Marion.  The  latter  was  born  in 
St.  John’s  parish,  South  Carolina.  His  father  also 
was  a Carolinian,  but  his  grandfather  was  a Hugue- 
not or  French  Protestant,  who  lived  near  Rochelle, 
in  the  blind  and  bigoted  days  of  Louis  XIV. 

The  priests,  who  are  the  persecutors  in  all  countries 
except  America,  could  not  bear  that  he  should  wor- 
ship God  in  his  own  way,  or  dream  of  going  to  heaven 
but  in  their  leading  strings,  and  therefore  soon  gave 


8 


THE  LIFE  OF 


him  to  understand,  that  he  must  either  “ recant  or 
trot;”  that  is,  quit  his  heresy  or  his  country. 

loo  brave  to  play  the  hypocrite,  and  too  wise  to 
hope  for  happiness  with  a “ wounded  spirit,”  he 
quickly  made  up  his  mind,  and,  like  faithful  Abra- 
ham, forsook  his  country,  to  wander  an  exile  in  lands 
unknown.  The  angel  who  guides  the  footsteps  of  the 
virtuous,  directed  his  course  to  South  Carolina;  and 
as  a reward  for  his  piety,  placed  him  in  a land  where 
mighty  deeds  and  honours  were  ripening  for  his 
grandson.  Nor  did  he  wander  alone.  A cherub, 
in  the  form  of  a lovely  wife,  followed  his  fortunes, 
and  gave  him  to  know,  from  happy  experience,  that 
where  love  is,  there  is  no  exile. 

Previous  to  his  expulsion,  the  priests  had,  for 
some  time,  suspected  young  Marion  of  what  they 
called  w heresy But,  learning  that  he  was  enamour- 
ed of  the  beautiful  and  accomplished  Mademoiselle 
Louisa  D’Aubrey,  and  like  to  win  her  affections, 
they  withheld  for  a while,  their  sacred  thunders 
hoping,  that  through  fear  of  them,  and  love  of  her 
he  might  yet  return  to  the  bosom  of  the  Catholic 
Church,  to  which  she  belonged. 

Young  Marion’s  suit  to  his  fair  mistress,  was  for- 
tunate to  the  full  extent  cf  an  ardent  lover’s  wishes. 
The  charming  girl  repaid  his  passion  with  such  libe- 
ral interest,  that,  in  a short  time  after  the  commence- 
ment of  their  delicious  friendship,  she  received  him 
for  her  husband,  in  spite  of  all  that  wealthier  wooers 
could  promise,  or  frowning  friends  could  threaten. 

The  neighbouring  clergy  now  marked  the  conduct 
of  Marion  with  a keener  eye ; and  discovering  in 
him  no  symptoms  that  pointed  to  recantation,  they 
furiously  pressed  the  bishop  to  enforce  against  him 
the  edict  of  banishment. 

At  this  time,  Marion  with  his  lovely  Louisa,  were 
living  on  a small  farm  in  the  vicinity  of  Rochelle. 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


9 


As  he  walked  one  afternoon  in  the  main  street  of 
that  city,  he  was  very  rudely  accosted  by  a couple  of 
officers  of  the  holy  inquisition,  whose  looks  and  dress 
were  as  dark  and  diabolical  as  their  employment. 

“ Vo  us  etes  nommes  Marion  ?”  said  they ; that  is, 
“ your  name  is  Marion  ?” 

“ Yes,  gentlemen,  that  is  my  name.” 

Upon  this,  they  rudely  thrust  a letter  into  his  hand, 
and  turned  away,  but  with  such  looks  as  tigers  throw 
at  a tender  lambkin,  whose  well-guarded  fold  forbids 
their  access.  On  opening  the  letter  he  found  as 
follows  : 

“Your  damnable  heresy,  well  deserves,  even  in 
this  life,  that  purgation  by  fire  which  awfully  awaits 
it  in  the  next.  Rut,  in  consideration  of  your  youth 
and  worthy  connexions,  our  mercy  has  condescended 
to  commute  your  punishment  to  perpetual  exile. — 
You  will  therefore,  instantly  prepare  to  quit  your 
country  for  ever.  For,  if  after  ten  days  from  the 
date  hereof,  you  should  be  found  in  an^  part  of  the 
kingdom,  your  miserable  body  shall  be  consumed 
by  fire,  and  your  impious  ashes  scattered  on  the 
winds  of  heaven. 

“ P.ere  Rochelle.”* 

Had  this  dreadful  letter  been  presented  to  Marion 
even  while  a bachelor,  it  would  have  filled  him  with 

* I forewarn  all  my  friends  from  thinking  me  capable  of  charging 
this  vile  persecuting  spirit  on  the  “ Old  W — e of  Rome ” exclusively. 
No,  thank  God,  I have  not  so  learned  human  nature.  And  they  who 
are  yet  to  learn,  may,  by  reading  the  u Catholic  Layman,”  soon  get 
satisfied,  that  the  priests  are  as  apt  to  abuse  power  as  the  people , and 
that,  when  “ clad  with  a little  brief  authority,”  protestants  as  well  as 
papists,  have  committed  those  cruelties  which  make  milder  devils 
blush.  [By  way  of  a note  on  a note,  I would  observe,  that  the  “ Ca- 
tholic Layman,”  is  a very  sensible . and  spirited  pamphlet;  the  pro- 
duction, it  is  said,  of  Mathew  Carey,  Esq.  of  Philadelphia,  who 
though  a Roman  Catholic,  has  printed  more  protestant  Bibles  and 
Testaments  than  half  the  preachers  and  printers  in  America  put  to- 
ether.] 


10 


THE  LIFE  OF 


horror;  for  the  heart  naturally  cleaves  to  tne  spot 
where  it  awoke  into  being,  and  quits,  with  tearful 
eyes,  the  scenes  among  which  were  spent  the  first  and 
happiest  days  of  life.  But  ties  stronger  than  those 
of  nature  bound  Marion  to  his  country.  Ilis  coun- 
try was  the  country  of  his  Louisa.  IIow  could  he 
live  without  her  ? And  how  could  he  hope  that  she 
would  ever  consent  to  leave  her  parents  and  friends 
to  wander  and  die  with  him  in  hopeless  exile  ? 

But  though  greatly  dejected,  yet  he  did  not  de- 
spair. He  still  trusted  in  that  parent-power  who 
smiles  even  under  frowns,  and  often  pours  his  rich- 
est showers  from  the  blackest  clouds.  Cheered  with 
this  hope,  he  put  the  letter  into  his  pocket,  and  set 
out  to  seek  his  Louisa. 

With  arms  fondly  interlocked,  she  had  accompa- 
nied him  that  morning  to  the  gate  on  the  back  of  the 
garden,  through  which  he  generally  passed  when  he 
went  to  Rochelle.  Soon  as  his  horse  was  led  up,  and 
he  about  to  mount,  she  snatched  the  bridle,  and 
laughing,  vowed  he  should  not  go  until  he  had  pro- 
mised her  one  thing. 

fcC  Well,  charmer,  what’s  that  ?” 

“ Why  that  you  will  return  very  soon.” 

“ Well,  indeed  I will  ; so  now  let  me  go.” 
u Oh  no  ! I am  afraid  that  when  you  get  out  of 
sight  you  will  play  truant.  You  must  give  me  secu 
rity.” 

w Well,  Louisa,  what  security  shall  I give  you  ?” 
w Why  you  must  give  me  that  thing,  whatever  it 
be,  that  you  hold  most  dear  in  all  the  world.” 

u Well  done  ! and  now,  Louisa,  I give  you  your- 
self, the  dearest  thing  God  ever  gave  me  in  all  t1  is 
world.” 

At  this  her  fine  face  was  reddened  all  over  with 
blushing  joy,  while  her  love-sparkling  eyes,  beaming 
on  his,  awakened  that  transport  which  those  who 
have  felt  it  would  not  exchange  for  worlds.  Then, 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


11 


after  the  fond,  lengthened  kiss,  and  tender  sigh  of 
happy  lovers  parting,  he  rode  off. 

Soon  as  he  was  out  of  her  sight,  she  turned  to  go  to 
the  house.  As  she  passed  along  the  garden,  the  sud- 
den fancy  struck  her  to  adorn  the  summer  house  with 
evergreens  and  flowers  of  the  liveliest  tintsr  and 
there,  amidst  a wilderness  of  sweets,  to  receive  her 
returning  lover.  Animated  with  this  fond  sugges- 
tion of  conjugal  affection,  (woman’s  true  life,)  which 
at  every  quickened  pulse  difFused  an  answering  rap- 
ture through  the  virtuous  breast,  she  commenced  her 
pleasing  task  ; and  with  her  task  she  mingled  the 
music  of  her  voice,  clear  and  strong  as  the  morning 
lark,  and  sweet  as  from  a heart  full  of  innocence  and 
love.  The  pleasant  sounds  reached  the  ear  of  Ma- 
rion, as  he  drew  near  the  garden.  Then,  entering  the 
gate  without  noise,  he  walked  up,  unperceived,  close 
to  her  as  she  sat  all  alone  in  the  arbour,  binding  her 
fragrant  flowers  and  singing  the  happy  hours  away. 
She  was  singing  her  favourite  hyrmn,  by  Madam 
Guion. 

44  That  love  I sing1,  that  wondrous  love, 

44  Which  wak’d  my  sleeping  clay  ; 

44  That  spread  the  sky  in  azure  bright, 

44  And  pour'd  the  golden  day,”  Sc c.  &c. 

To  see  youth  and  beauty,  though  in  a stranger, 
thus  pointing  to  heaven,  is  delightful  to  a pious  heart. 
Then  what  rapture  to  an  enlightened  soul  to  see  a 
beloved  wife  thus  communing  with  God,  and  becom- 
ing every  day  more  and  more  angelic  ! 

Soon  as  her  song  was  finished,  he  called  out, 
u Louisa !” 

Startled  at  the  sudden  call,  she  turned  around  to 
the  well-known  voice,  presenting  a face  on  which 
love  and  sweet  surprise  had  spread  those  rosy 
charms,  which  in  a moment  banished  all  his  sorrows. 
u My  dearest  Gabriel,”  she  exclaimed,  dropping  her 


12 


THE  LIFE  OF 


flowers,  and  running  and  throwing  herself  into  his 
arms,  uhere,  take  back  your  security!  *take  back 
your  security ! and  also  my  thanks  for  being  such  a 
man  of  honour.  But  what  brought  you  back,  love, 
so  much  earlier  than  you  expected  ?” 

Here  the  memory  of  that  fatal  letter  went  like  a 
dagger  to  his  heart,  bleaching  his  manly  cheeks. 

He  would  have  evaded  the  question ; but  in  vain, 
for  Louisa,  startled  at  the  sudden  paleness  of  his 
looks,  insisted  the  more  earnestly  to  know  the  cause. 

He  delayed  a moment,  but  conscious  that  the  se- 
cret must  soon  come  out,  he  took  the  letter  from  his 
pocket,  and  with  a reluctant  hand  put  it  into  hers. 

Scarcely  had  she  run  through  it,  which  she  did 
with  the  most  devouring  haste,  when  she  let  it  drop 
from  her  hands,  and  faintly  articulating,  “ Ah,  cruel 
priest !”  she  fell  upon  his  bosom,  which  she  bathed 
with  her  tears. 

After  some  moments  of  distress  too  big  for  utter- 
ance, Marion,  deeply  sighing,  at  length  broke  silence. 
“ Ah,  Louisa ! and  must  we  part  so  soon  !” 

At  this,  starting  up  with  eyes  suffused  with  tears, 
bnt  beaming  immortal  love,  she  hastily  replied — 
“ Part!” 

w Yes  !”  continued  he,  w part ! for  ever  part !” 
u No,  Marion,  no!  never!  never  !” 
u Ah ! can  you,  Louisa,  leave  father  and  mother, 
and  follow  a poor  banished  husband  like  me  ?” 
u Yes — yes — father,  mother,  and  all  the  world  will 
I leave  to  follow  thee,  Marion  !” 

w O blessed  priest,  I thank  you!  Good  bishop  Ro- 
chelle, holy  father  in  God,  I thank  you — your  perse- 
cution has  enriched  me  above  princes.  It  has  dis- 
covered to  me  a mine  of  love  in  Louisa’s  soul,  that 
I never  dreamed  of  before.” 

w My  dearest  Gabriel,  did  you  ever  doubt  my 
love  ?” 

“ Pardon  me,  my  love,  I never  doubted  your  love 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


IS 


Oh  no ! I knew  you  loved  me.  The  circumstances  un- 
der which  you  married  me  gave  me  delicious  proof 
of  that.  To  have  preferred  me  to  so  many  wealthier 
wooers — to  have  taken  me  as  a husband  to  the  para- 
dise of  your  arms,  when  so  many  others  would  have 
sent  me  as  a heretic  to  the  purgatoiy  of  the  inquisi- 
tion, was  evidence  of  love  never  to  be  forgotten  ; but 
that  in  addition  to  all  this  you  should  now  be  so 
ready  to  leave  father  and  mother,  country  and  kin,  to 
follow  me,  a poor  wanderer  in  the  earth,  without 

even  a place  where  to  lay  my  head ” 

“ Yes,  yes,”  replied  she,  eagerly  interrupting  him, 
44  that’s  the  very  reason  I would  leave  all  to  fellow 
you.  For,  oh  my  love  ! how  could  I enjoy  father  or 
mother,  country  or  kin,  and  you  a wanderer  in  the 
earth,  without  a place  whereon  to  lay  your  head  ! That 
single  thought  would  cover  my  days  with  darkness, 
and  drive  me  to  distraction.  But  give  me  your  com- 
pany, my  Gabriel,  and  then  welcome  that  foreign  land 
with  all  its  shady  forests  ! Welcome  the  thatched 
cottage  and  the  little  garden  filled  with  the  fruits  of 
our  own  fondly  mingled  toils  ! Methinks,  my  love,  I 
already  see  that  distant  sun  rising  with  gladsome 
beams  on  our  dew-spangled  flowers.  I hear  the  wild 
wood-birds  pouring  their  sprightly  carols  on  the 
sweet-scented  morning.  My  heart  leaps  with  joy  to 
their  songs.  Then,  O my  husband ! if  we  must  go, 
let  us  go  without  a sigh.  God  can  order  it  for  oui 
good.  And,  on  my  account,  you  shall  cast  no  lin- 
gering look  behind.  I am  ready  to  follow  you 
wherever  you  go.  Your  God  shall  be  my  God. 
Where  you  live  I will  live,  and  where  you  die,  there 
will  I die,  and  wTill  be  buried  by  your  side.  Nothing 
my  beloved,  but  death,  shall  ever  part  me  from  you/’ 
44  Angelic  Louisa!”  cried  Marion,  snatching  her 
to  his  bosom  in  transports — u Wondrous  woman! 
what  do  I not  owe  to  God,  ever  blessed,  for  such  a 
comforter ! I came  just  now  from  Rochelle  with  die 
B 


14 


THE  LIFE  OF 


load  of  a mountain  on  my  heart.  You  have  taken  off 
that  mountain,  and  substituted  a joy  most  lightsome 
and  heavenly.  Like  a ministering  angel,  you  have 
confirmed  me  in  duty  ; you  have  ended  my  struggles 
— and  by  so  cheerfully  offering  to  forsake  all  and  fol- 
low me,  you  have  displayed  a love,  dear  Louisa, 
which  will,  I trust,  render  you,  next  to  my  God,  the 
eternal  complacency  and  delight  of  my  soul.” 

In  the  midst  of  this  tender  scene,  a servant  came 
running  to  inform  Louisa  that  her  mother,  Madame 
D’ Aubrey,  had  just  arrived,  and  was  coming  to  her 
in  the  garden.  This  startled  our  lovers  into  a pain- 
ful expectation  of  another  trial.  For  as  Louisa  was 
an  only  daughter,  and  her  parents  doatingly  fond  of 
her,  it  was  not  to  be  imagined  that  they  would  give 
her  up  without  a hard  struggle.  Seeing  the  old  lady 
coming  down  the  walk  towards  them,  they  endea- 
voured to  adjust  their  looks,  and  to  meet  her  with  the 
wonted  smile.  But  in  vain.  The  tumult  in  their  bo- 
soms was  still  too  visible  in  their  looks  to  escape  her 
discernment.  She  eagerly  asked  the  cause.  Their 
changing  countenances  served  but  to  increase  her 
f^ars  and  the  vehemence  of  her  curiosity.  The  bi- 
shup’s  letter  was  put  into  her  hands.  Its  effects  on 
the  good  old  lady  were  truly  distressing.  Not  hav- 
ing, like  her  daughter,  the  vigour  of  youth,  nor  the 
fervours  of  love  to  support  her,  she  was  almost  over- 
come. 

Soon  as  her  spirits  were  a little  recovered,  she  in- 
sisted that  her  daughter  and  son-in-law  should  in- 
stantly step  into  her  coach  and  go  home  with  her. 
u Your  father,  my  dear,”  said  she  to  Louisa,  “ your 
father,  Monsieur  D’Aubrey,  will,  I am  certain,  do 
something  for  us.” 

But  in  this  she  was  wofully  mistaken,  for  Mon- 
sieur D’ Aubrey  was  one  of  that  blind  sort  who  place 
all  their  religion  in  forms  and  notions.  He  could 
smile  and  look  very  fond  upon  a man,  though  not 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


15 


over  moral,  provided  that  man  went  to  his  church— 
praised  his  preacher  and  opinions,  and  abused  every 
body  else  ; but  would  look  very  sour  on  the  best  man 
on  earth  who  differed  from  him  in  those  things.  In 
short,  he  was  destitute  of  love,  the  sole  life  of  reli- 
gion. And  though  on  account  of  his  wife’s  importu 
nities  and  his  daughter’s  repose,  he  had  consented  1 t 
her  marriage  with  Marion,  yet  he  never  liked  the 
young  heretic , and  therefore  he  read  the  order  of  hif 
banishment  without  any  burst  of  grief,  and  made  m 
effort  to  revoke  the  decrees  of  the  church  agains* 
him,  but  abandoned  him  to  his  fate. 

Such  insensibility  to  her  husband’s  interest  dis- 
tressed poor  Louisa  exceedingly.  However,  it  had 
this  good  effect : It  contributed  greatly  to  lessen  her 
regret  at  parting  with  her  parents. 

u O had  they  but  loved  me  as  you  do,  my  Marion,’’' 
said  she,  u could  they  have  been  so  indifferent  when 
my  all  was  at  stake  ? No,  indeed,”  continued  she, 
“they  could  not,”  and  burst  into  tears. 

“ Dearest  Louisa  !”  replied  he,  tenderly  embracing 
her,  “ would  not  I leave  father  and  mother  and  all 
for  you  ?” 

“ Well,”  returned  she,  with  eyes  of  love,  out- 
shining all  diamonds,  “ and  am  I not  going  to  leave 
all  for  you  ? Yet  a few  days  and  I shall  have  no  fa- 
ther, no  mother,  no  country ; cut  off  from  all  the 
world  but  you,  Marion  ! alas  ! what  will  become  of 
me  if  you  should  prove  cruel  to  me  ?” 

“ Cruel ! cruel  to  you,  Louisa  ! O my  God,  can 
that  ever  be  ?” 

“ Ah  Marion  ! but  some  excellent  women  have  left 
father  and  mother,  and  followed  their  husbands  ; and 
yet  after  all  have  been  cruelly  neglected  by  them  !” 
“ Yes,  Louisa;  and  God  forgive  them  for  that  hor- 
rid crime ! But  to  me  such  a deed  were  utterly  im- 
possible. I live  for  happiness,  Louisa,  I live  for  hap- 
piness, my  angel.  And  I find  so  much  happiness  i 


16 


THE  LIFE  OF 


loving,  that  I would  as  soon  cease  to  live  as  cease  to 
love.  Some  indeed,  sordid  celcbutes  for  example, 
seem  to  exist  without  love ; but  it  is  only  a seeming 
existence,  most  joyless  and  imperfect.  And  they  bear 
the  dulness  of  apathy  the  better,  because  they  have 
never  known  the  transports  of  affection.  But  with 
me,  my  charmer,  the  case  is  happily  different ; for  at 
the  moment  I first  saw  those  angel  eyes,  they  infused 
a sweetness  into  my  heart  unknown  before.  And 
those  delicious  sparks,  fanned  by  your  loves  and 
graces,  have  n iw  risen  to  such  a flame  of  bliss,  that 
me  thinks,  were  it  to  go  out,  my  life  would  go  out 
with  it.  Then,  my  first  and  last,  and  only  sweetheart, 
I pray  you,  do  not  fear  that  I shall  ever  cease  to  love 
y ou  : for  indeed  that  can  never  be  while  you  con- 
tinue even  half  as  lovely  as  you  are  at  present.” 

u Well  then,  Marion,”  replied  she,  fondly  pressing 
his  ruddy  cheeks  to  her  heaving  bosom,  “ if  it  de- 
pends on  me,  on  my  constant  affection  and  studious- 
ness  to  pieas£,  you  shall  never  love  me  less  ; but 
more  and  more  every  day  of  your  life.” 

The  next  morning,  accompanied  by  Madame 
D’ Aubrey,  Marion  and  Louisa  returned  home  in  or- 
der to  make  the  best  preparations,  which  the  short- 
ness of  the  time  would  allow,  to  quit  their  country 
for  ever. 

In  choosing  his  place  of  exile,  it  has  been  said  tha* 
Marion’s  thoughts  were  at  first  turned  towards  the 
West  Indies.  But  it  would  appear  that  Heaven  had 
decreed  for  him  a different  direction.  For  scarcely 
*iad  he  reached  his  home,  much  agitated  about  the 
means  of  getting  off  in  time,  before  a letter  was 
brought  him,  from  an  intimate  friend  in  Rochelle,  in- 
forming him  that  a large  ship,  chartered  for  the  Ca- 
rolinas,  by  several  wealthy  Huguenot  families,  was 
then  lying  at  anchor  under  the  Isle  de  Rhee.  Grate- 
fully regarding  this  as  a beckoning  from  heaven, 
they  at  once  commenced  their  work,  and  prosecuted 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


17 


it  with  such  spirit,  that  on  the  evening  of  the  ninth 
day  they  embraced  their  weeping  friends  and  went 
on  board  the  ship. 

It  is  said  that  many  of  the  most  respectable  fami- 
lies of  Carolina — the  Gourdines,  Hugers,  Trapiers, 
Postells,  Horrys,  &x.  came  over  in  the  same  ship. 

The  next  day,  the  clouds  began  to  bank  the  eastern 
sky,  and  the  winds  to  whistle  from  the  hills.  Pleased 
with  the  darkly  rippling  waters,  the  ready  ship  got 
home  her  anchors  and  loosed  her  sails.  Then  wheel- 
ing before  the  freshening  gale,  she  bid  adieu  to  her 
native  shores,  and  on  wings  of  wide-spread  canvas, 
commenced  her  foaming  course  for  the  western  world. 

But  though  mutual  love  and  confidence  in  heaven 
were  strong  in  the  bosoms  of  young  Marion  and  his 
Louisa,  yet  could  they  not  suppress  the  workings  of 
nature,  which  would  indulge  her  sorrows  when  look- 
ing back  on  the  lessening  shores  ; they  beheld  dwin- 
dled to  a point  and  trembling  in  the  misty  sky,  that 
glorious  land,  at  once  their  own  cradle  and  the  se- 
pulchre of  their  fathers. 

Some  natural  tears  they  shed,  but  wiped  them 
soon,  for  the  earth  was  all  before  them  where  to 
choose  their  place  of  rest ; and  Providence  their 
guide. 

But  Marion  and  Louisa  did  not  leave  their  coun- 
try empty  handed.  Her  Parents,  ’tis  supposed,  gave 
Louisa  money,  but  what  sum,  after  this  long  lapse  of 
time,  is  uncertain.  Nor  does  tradition  say  for  how 
much  Marion  sold  his  little  farm.  But  it  is  well  known 
that  on  their  arrival  in  Carolina,  they  went  up  into  the 
country,  and  bought  a plantation  on  Goose  creek,  near 
Charleston,  where  their  dust  now  sleeps,  after  a long 
life  endeared  by  mutual  love,  and  surrounded  by 
every  comfort  that  industry  and  prudence  can  be- 
stow. 

We  have  said  that  Marion  left  his  country  for  the 
sake  of  his  religion ; which  appears  to  have  been  of 
B 2 


18 


THE  LIFE  OF 


that  cheerful  sort  for  which  a wise  man  would  make 
any  sacrifice.  It  was  the  religion  of  the  gospel,  that 
blessed  philosophy  which  asks  not  a face  of  gloom,  but 
a heart  of  joy.  And  thereunto  enjoin  a supreme  love 
of  God,  and  a close  walk  with  him  in  a pure  and  be- 
nevolent life.  From  this,  the  genuine  spring  of  all  the 
sweetest  charities  and  joys  of  life,  Marion  derived 
that  cheerfulness  which  appears  never  to  have  failed 
him.  Even  in  his  last  will,  where  most  men  fancy 
they  ought  to  be  gloomy  as  the  grave  whither  they 
are  going,  his  cheerfulness  continued  to  shine  with 
undiminished  lustre.  It  was  like  the  setting  of  a 
cloudless  sun : which,  after  pouring  its  fattening 
beams  on  the  fields  of  a livelong  summer’s  day,  goes 
down  in  smiles  to  rise  a brighter  beauty  on  another 
day.  This  will  is  certainly  an  amiable  curiosity,  and 
as  it  may  be  of  service  to  the  reader,  by  showing  him 
how  free  and  easy  a good  life  makes  a man  with 
death,  I will  record  it : at  least  the  principal  features 
of  it,  as  I got  them  from  the  family. 

After  having,  in  the  good  old  way,  bequeathed 
M his  soul  to  God  who  gave  it,”  and  u his  body  to  the 
earth  out  of  which  it  was  taken,”  he  proceeds  in  the 
manner  following : 

In  the  first  place,  as  to  debts,  thank  God,  I owe 
none.  And  therefore  shall  give  my  executors  but 
little  trouble  on  that  score. 

Secondly — As  to  the  poor,  I have  always  treated 
them  as  my  brethren.  My  dear  family  will,  I know, 
folio wr  my  example. 

Thirdly-- As  to  the  wealth  with  which  God  has 
been  pleased  to  bless  me  and  my  dear  Louisa  and 
children,  lovingly  we  have  laboured  together  for  it — 
lovingly  we  have  enjoyed  it — and  now,  with  a glad 
and  grateful  heart  do  I leave  it  among  them. 

He  then  proceeds  to  the  distribution.  Liberally  to 
his  children : but  far  more  so  to  his  wife — and  at 
the  end  of  each  bequest  assigns  his  reasons,  viz. 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


1C 


I give  my  ever  beloved  Louisa  all  my  ready  money— 
that  she  may  never  be  alarmed  at  a sudden  call. 

I give  her  all  my  fat  calves  and  lambs,  my  pigs  and 
poultry — that  she  may  always  keep  a good  table. 

I give  her  my  new  carriage  and  horses — that  she 
may  visit  her  friends  in  comfort. 

I give  her  my  family  bible — that  she  may  live  above 
the  ill  tempers  and  sorrows  of  life. 

I give  my  son  Peter  a hornbook — for  I am  afraid  he 
will  always  be  a dunce. 

But  Peter  was  so  stung  with  this  little  squib,  that 
he  instantly  quit  his  raccoon  hunting  by  nights,  and 
betook  himself  to  reading,  and  soon  became  a very 
sensible  and  charming  young  man. 

His  eldest  son,  who,  after  his  father,  was  named 
Gabriel,  married  a Miss  Charlotte  Corde,  by  whom 
he  had  six  children — Esther,  Gabriel,  Isaac,  Benja- 
min, Job,  and  our  hero  Francis,  the  least  as  well  as 
the  last  of  the  family.  As  to  his  sister  Esther,  I 
have  never  heard  what  became  of  her ; but  for  his 
four  brothers,  I am  happy  to  state,  that  though  not 
formidable  as  soldiers,  they  were  very  amiable  as 
citizens.  They  bought  farms — proved  their  oxen — 
married  wives — multiplied  good  children,  and  thus, 
very  unlike  our  niggardly  bachelors,  contributed  a 
liberal  and  laudable  part  to  the  population,  strength, 
and  glory  of  their  country.  God,  I pray  heartily, 
take  kind  notice  of  all  such ; and  grant,  that  having 
thus  done  his  will  in  this  world,  they  may  partake  of 
nis  glory  in  the  next. 


20 


THE  LIFE  OF 


CHAPTER  II. 

Marion? s Jirst  appearance — an  humble  cultivator  oJ 
the  earth — the  great  Cherokee  war  of  1761  comes 
on — volunteers  his  services  to  his  country — is  ap- 
pointed a first  lieutenant  in  the  provincial  line — 
commands  a forlorn  hope — narrowly  escapes  with 
his  life — the  Anglo-American  and  the  Indian  forces 
engaged — bloody  battle — the  Indians  defeated— 
their  country  laid  waste — peace  made — Marion 
retires . 

AMON G the  Mohawks  of  Sparta,  it  was  a constant 
practice  on  the  birth  of  a male  infant,  to  set  a military 
granny  to  examine  him,  as  a butcher  would  a veal  fa- 
the  market,  and  if  he  were  found  any  ways  puny,  h 
was  presently  throwxi  into  a horse  pond  with  as  little 
ceremony  as  a blind  puppy.  Had  such  been  the  order 
of  the  day  in  1732,  Carolina  would  never  have 
boasted  a Marion ; for  I have  it  from  good  authority, 
that  this  great  soldier,  at  his  birth,  was  not  larger 
than  a New  England  lobster,  and  might  easily 
enough  have  been  put  into  a quart  pot.  This  puny 
appearance  continued  with  him  till  the  age  of  twelve, 
when  it  was  removed  by  the  following  extraordinary 
providence. 

On  a trip  to  the  West  Indies,  which  his  friends  put 
him  upon  for  his  health’s  sake,  the  little  schooner  in 
which  he  was  embarked  was  suddenly  attacked  by 
some  monstrous  fish,  probably  a thorn-back  whale, 
who  gave  it  such  a terrible  stroke  with  his  tail  as 
started  a plank.  The  frightened  crew  flew  to  their 
pumps,  but  in  vain  ; for  the  briny  flood  rushed  with 
such  fury  into  their  vessel,  that  they  were  glad  to  quit 
her,  and  tumble  as  fast  as  they  could  into  their  little 
jolly  boat.  The  event  showed  that  this  was  as  but 
a leap  w out  of  the  frying  pan  into  the  fire  for  their 

schooner  went  down  so  suddenly  as  not  to  give  them 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


21 


time  to  take  a mouthful  of  food  with  them,  not  even 
so  much  as  a brown  biscuit  or  a pint  of  water.  After 
three  wretched  days  of  feverish  hunger  and  thirst, 
they  agreed  to  kill  a little  cabin  dog  who  had  swam 
to  them  from  the  schooner  just  before  she  sunk.  On 
his  raw  flesh  they  feasted  without  restraint;  but  the 
blood  they  preserved  with  more  economy,  to  cool 
their  parched  lips.  In  a few  days,  however,  their  own 
blood,  far  lack  of  cooling  food,  became  so  fiery  hot 
as  to  scald  their  brain  to  frenzy.  About  the  tenth 
day  the  captain  and  mate  leaped  overboard,  raving 
mad ; and  the  day  following  the  two  remaining  sea- 
men expired  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  piteously 
crying  to  the  last  for  water  ! water  ! God  of  his 
mercy  forgive  me,  who  have  so  often  drank  of  that 
sweet  beverage  without  grateful  acknowledgments  ! 
Scarcely  was  this  melancholy  scene  concluded  be- 
fore a vessel  hove  in  sight,  standing  directly  for  the 
boat,  as  if  purposely  sent  to  save  the  child  that  was 
tossing  in  it  on  the  gloomy  waves. 

Little  Marion  was  so  weak  that  he  could  not  stir 
hand  or  foot  to  climb  up  the  side  of  the  vessel.  The 
captain,  however,  soon  had  him  on  board  ; and  by 
means  of  chocolate  and  turtle  broth,  sparingly  given 
him  at  first,  recruited  him  so  fast,  that,  by  the  time 
he  reached  his  native  shores,  he  was  in  much  better 
health  than  ever.  So  that  on  his  return  to  his  friends, 
it  was  found,  as  is  often  the  case,  that  what  was  at  first 
looked  on  as  a great  misfortune,  had  proved  a very 
noble  blessing.  Kis  constitution  seemed  renewed,  his 
frame  commenced  a second  and  rapid  growth  ; while 
his  cheeks,  quitting  their  pale  suet-coloured  cast,  as- 
sumed a bright  and  healthy  olive.  According  to  the 
best  accounts  that  I have  been  able  to  procure,  Ma- 
rion never  thought  of  another  trip  to  sea,  but  conti- 
nued in  his  native  parish,  in  that  most  independent 
and  happy  of  all  callings,  a cultivator  of  the  earth, 
till  his  twenty-seventh  year. 


22 


THE  LIFE  OF 


A report  then  prevailing  that  the  Cherokee  Indians 
were  murdering  the  frontier  settlers,  Marion  turned 
out  with  his  rifle,  as  a volunteer  under  governor  Lyt- 
tleton.  The  affair' however,  proved  to  be  a mere  flash 
in  the  pan  : for  the  Cherokees  finding  that  things 
were  not  exactly  in  the  train  they  wished,  sent  on  a 
deputation  with  their  wampum  belts  and  peace-talks 
to  bury  the  hatchet  and  brighten  the  old  chain  of 
friendship  with  the  whites ; and  the  goo  I-natured 
governor,  thinking  them  sincere,  concluded  a treaty 
with  them.  The  troops  of  course  were  dismissed, 
and  Marion  returned  to  his  plantation. 

Scarcely,  however,  had  two  years  elapsed,  before 
the  perfidious  Cherokees  broke  out  again  in  a fresh 
place,  killing  and  driving  the  defenceless  inhabitants 
at  a most  barbarous  rate.  Marion  instantly  flew  again 
to  the  governor  with  the  tender  of  his  services  to  fight 
for  his  afflicted  countrymen.  His  excellency  was  so 
pleased  with  this  second  instance  of  Marion’s  patriot- 
ism, that  he  gave  him  a first  lieutenancy  in  the  pro- 
vincial line  under  the  brave  captain  William  Moul- 
trie. The  reported  force  and  fury  of  the  Indians 
struck  such  a terror  through  the  colony,  that  colonel 
Grant  (of  the  British)  with  twelve  hundred  regulars, 
was  ordered  out  on  a forced  march  to  succour  the 
bleeding  frontiers. 

On  their  way  they  were  joined  at  Ninety-six,  May 
14,  1761,  by  twelve  hundred  provincials,  all  men  of 
surest  aim  with  the  deadly  rifle. 

To  draw  off  the  enemy  from  their  murderous  ex- 
cursions, Col.  Grant  wisely  determined  to  push  the 
war  at  once  into  their  own  country ; which  was  no 
sooner  discovered  by  them,  than  they  instantly  col- 
lected their  whole  force  to  oppose  him.  The  only 
passage  into  their  country  was  through  a dark  defile 
or  gap  in  the  mountain,  which  it  was  resolved  should 
be  forced  as  rapidly  as  possible.  A forlorn  of  thirty 
brave  fellows  were  ordered  to  explore  the  dangerous 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


23 


pass  : and  Marion,  though  but  a young  lieutenant, 
had  the  honour  to  be  appointed  their  leader.  At  the 
head  of  his  command  he  advanced  with  rapidity, 
while  the  army  moved  on  to  support  him.  But 
scarcely  had  they  entered  the  gloomy  defile,  when, 
from  behind  the  rocks  and  trees,  a sheet  of  fire  sud- 
denly blazed  forth,  which  killed  twenty-one  of  his 
men  ! With  the  remainder,  he  faced  about  and  push- 
ed back  with  all  speed ; whereupon  great  numbers 
of  tall  savages,  frightfully  painted,  rushed  from  their 
lurking  places,  and  with  hideous  yells  and  uplifted 
tomahawks,  pursued  and  gained  upon  them  so  fast, 
that  nothing  but  the  nearness  of  the  advanced  guard 
saved  them  from  destruction.  The  Anglo-Ameri- 
can army  then  prepared  themselves  for  a serious  and 
bloody  conflict. 

An  enemy  in  such  force,  so  well  posted,  and  de- 
fending the  only  pass  in  their  country,  would,  they 
well  knew,  fight  desperately.  And  well  aware,  also, 
what  slaughter  would  follow  upon  their  own  defeat, 
they  determined  to  yield  the  victory  only  with  their 
lives.  A long  summer’s  day  was  before  them,  for  the 
sun  had  just  risen  above  the  hills,  a bright  spectator 
of  the  coming  fight.  Then,  in  high  spirits,  with  jus- 
tice on  their  side,  and  an  approving  conscience,  they 
cheerfully  left  the  event  to  Heaven.  The  British  were 
formed  in  small  corps,  the  more  promptly  to  support 
the  riflemen,  who  led  the  van,  and  now  with  wide 
extended  wings  began  to  move.  In  a little  time  they 
came  in  sight  of  the  enemy,  who  appeared  flying 
backwards  and  forwards,  as  if  not  well  satisfied  with 
their  ground.  The  provincial  marksmen  then  rapidly 
advancing,  flew  each  to  his  tree,  and  the  action  began. 
From  wing  to  wing,  quite  across  the  defile,  the  woods 
appeared  as  if  all  on  fire  ; while  the  incessant  crash 
of  small  arms  tortured  the  ear  like  claps  of  sharpest 
thunder.  The  muskets  of  the  British,  like  their  native 
bull-dogs,  kept  up  a dreadful  roar,  but  scarcely  did 


24 


THE  LIFE  OF 


more  than  bark  the  trees,  or  cut  off  the  branches  above 
the  heads  of  the  Indians.  While,  with  far  less  noise, 
the  fatal  rifles  continued  to  lessen  the  numbers  of  the 
enemy.  The  action  was  kept  up  with  great  spirit  for 
nearly  two  hours,  during  which  the  superiority  of  the 
American  riflemen  was  very  remarkably  displayed. 
For  in  that  time  they  lost  only  fifty-one — whereas  of 
the  Indians  there  fell  one  hundred  and  three,  which 
so  disheartened  them  that  they  fled  and  gave  up  their 
country  to  the  conquerors,  who  prepared  immedi- 
ately to  enter  it. 

Colonel  Grant  had  hoped  to  surprise  their  towns, 
but  concluding  that  their  swift-footed  runners  had 
given  the  alarm,  he  moved  on  in  slow  marches 
through  the  wilderness  towards  the  settlements, 
thinking  that  by  the  destruction  of  their  towns  and 
corn-fields  he  should  drive  them  into  a disposition 
for  peace. 

Marion  often  spoke  of  this  part  of  the  war,  as  of  a 
transaction  which  he  remembered  with  sorrow.  “ We 
arrived,”  said  he,  in  a letter  to  a friend, u at  the  Indian 
towns  in  the  month  of  July.  As  the  lands  were  rich 
and  the  season  had  been  favourable,  the  corn  was 
bending  under  the  double  weight  of  lusty  roasting 
ears  and  pods  of  clustering  beans.  The  furrows 
seemed  to  rejoice  under  their  precious  loads — the 
fields  stood  thick  with  bread.  We  encamped  the  first 
night  in  the  woods,  near  the  fields,  where  the  whole 
army  feasted  on  the  young  corn,  which,  with  fat  ve- 
nison, made  a most  delicious  treat. 

4C  The  next  morning  we  proceeded  by  order  of  colo- 
nel Grant,  to  burn  down  the  Indian  cabins.  Some  of 
our  men  seemed  to  enjoy  this  cruel  work,  laughing 
very  heartily  at  the  curling  flames,  as  they  mounted 
loud  crackling  over  the  tops  of  the  huts.  But  to  me 
it  appeared  a shocking  sight.  Poor  creatures ! thought 
I,  we  surely  need  not  grudge  you  such  miserable 
habitations.  But  when  we  came,  according  to  orders , 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


25 


to  cut  down  the  fields  of  corn,  I could  scarcely  refrain 
from  tears.  For  who  could  see  the  stalks  that  stood  so 
stately  with  broad  green  leaves  and  gaily  tasseled 
shocks,  filled  with  sweet  milky  fluid  and  flour,  the 
staff  of  life  ; who,  I say,  without  grief,  could  see 
these  sacred  plants  sinking  under  our  swords  with 
all  their  precious  load,  to  wither  and  rot  untasted  in 
their  mourning  fields  ? 

44  I saw  every  where  around  the  footsteps  of  the 
little  Indian  children^  where  they  had  lately  played 
under  the  shade  of  their  rustling  corn.  No  doubt  they 
had  often  looked  up  with  joy  to  the  swelling  shocks, 
and  gladdened  when  they  thought  of  their  abundant 
cakes  for  the  coming  winter.  When  we  are  gone, 
thought  I,  they  will  return,  and  peeping  through  the 
weeds  with  tearful  eyes,  will  mark  the  ghastly  ruin 
poured  over  their  homes  and  happy  fields,  where  they 
had  so  often  played 

44  4 Who  did  this  P1  they  will  ask  their  mothers. 

ut  The  white  people  did  it p the  mothers  reply; 
4 the  Christians  did  it  /’ 

44  Thus  for  cursed  Mammon’s  sake,  the  followers 
of  Christ  have  sown  the  hellish  tares  of  hatred  in  the 
bosoms  even  of  pagan  children.” 

The  reader  will,  however,  with  pleasure  remember 
that  these  w;ere  the  dark  deeds  chiefly  of  a kingly 
government,  A gloomy  monarch,  three  thousand 
miles  distant,  and  rolling  in  all  the  pomps  and  plea- 
sures of  three  millions  of  dollars  per  annum,  could 
hardly  be  supposed  to  know  what  was  passing  in  the 
American  wilds  ; but  W ashington  had  known.  With 
bleeding  heart  he  had  often  beheld  the  red  and  white 
men  mingling  in  bloody  fight.  The  horrors  of  the 
cruel  strife  dwelt  upon  his  troubled  thoughts  ; and 
soon  as  God  gave  him  power,  (as  president  of  in- 
dependent America,)  he  immediately  adopted  that 
better  system  which  he  had  learnt  from  the  gospel. 
His  successors,  Adams,  Jefferson,  and  Madison, 
C 


26 


THE  LIFE  OF 


have  piously  pursued  his  plan.  In  place  of  the  toma- 
hawk, the  plough-share  is  sent  to  the  poor  Indians — 
goods  are  furnished  them  at  first  cost — letters  and 
morals  are  taught  among  their  tribes — and  the  soul 
of  humanity  is  rejoiced  to  see  the  red  and  white  men 
meet  together  like  brothers. 

By  this  god-like  policy,  the  United  States  have 
not  only  saved  an  immensity  of  blood  and  treasure, 
but  are  rapidly  adding  to  the  population  and  strength 
of  the  country.  , 

Now  to  return  to  Marion’s  letter. — u After  burn- 
ing twenty  towns,  and  destroying  thousands  of  corn- 
fields,^ the  army  returned  to  Koewee,  where  the 
Little  Carpenter , a Cherokee  chief,  met  colonel  Grant 
and  concluded  a peace.”  The  troops  were  then  dis- 
banded: and  Marion  returned  to  his  plantation  in 
St.  John’s  parish,  where,  with  a few  well-fed  slaves, 
he  continued  to  till  his  parental  acres,  occasionally 
amusing  himself  with  his  gun  and  fishing  rod,  of 
which  he  was  always  very  fond. 

* To  this  day  the  Indians  cannot  bear  the  name  of  colonel  Grant ; 
and  whenever  they  see  a drove  of  horses  destroying  a corn-field,  they 
call  out  “ Grant ! Grant  1* 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


27 


CHAPTER  III. 

War  between  Eng  lain!  and  America — Marion  ap- 
pointed a captain  in  the  Second  South  Carolina 
regiment — goes  with  the  author  on  the  recruiting * 
service — curious  anecdote  of  lieut . Charnock  and 
captain  Johnson — some  melancholy  and  memorable 
relations . 

MARION  continued  to  tread  the  peaceful  and 
pleasant  walks  of  life,  as  above,  till  the  beginning  of 
May,  1775,  when,  by  a vessel  direct  from  Boston, 
news  was  brought  of  the  gallant  battle  of  Lexington. 
Instantly  the  whole  town  and  country  were  in  a flame 
for  war,  and  the  legislature  being  purposely  convened, 
hastened  to  meet  the  wishes  of  the  people,  who  were 
clamorous  for  raising  two  regiments  for  the  service. 

On  balloting  for  officers,  Marion’s  ticket  came  out 
for  a captaincy  in  the  second  regiment,  under  com- 
mand of  the  brave  William  Moultrie.  In  a little  time 
my  name  was  called  out  as  a captain  also,  in  the  same 
regiment  with  Marion.  This  to  me,  was  matter  of 
great  joy,  as  I had  long  courted  the  friendship  of 
Marion.  For  though  he  was  neither  handsome,  nor 
witty,  nor  wealthy,  yet  he  was  universally  beloved. 
The  fairness  of  his  character — his  fondness  for  his 
relations — his  humanity  to  his  slaves — and  his 
bravery  in  the  Indian  war,  had  made  him  the  darling 
of  the  country.  It  is  not,  therefore,  to  be  wondered  at, 
that  I should  have  taken  such  a liking  to  Marion,  but 
why  he  should  have  conceived  such  a partiality  for 
me,  that’s  the  question.  But  it  is  no  business  of 
mine  to  solve  it.  However,'  very  certain  it  is,  that 
on  the  first  moment  of  our  acquaintance,  there  was 
something  in  his  eyes  and  looks  towards  me  which 
led  me  to  think  there  must  be  truth  in  the  old  say- 
ing of  u people’s  falling  in  love  at  first  sight.”  And 
when  it  is  considered,  that  strong  attachments  gene- 


28 


THE  LIFE  OF 


rally  spring  from  congenialities,  I must  confess,  that 
the  warm  and  constant  friendship  of  Marion  has  ever 
appeared  to  me  exceedingly  flattering. 

But  to  return  to  my  narrative. — Our  commissions 
as  captains,  were  soon  made  out  and  signed  by  the 
council  of  safety,  the  21st  of  June,  1 775.  As  we  were 
a couple  of  flaming  patriots,  we  could  not  bear  to  be 
idle  a single  moment — marching,  fightitig,  killing, 
and  taking  prisoners,  was  all  that  we  could  think  or 
talk  of.  But  as  all  this  fine  sport  could  not  be  car- 
ried on  without  men,  nor  men  to  be  had  without  re- 
cruiting ; recruiting,  of  course,  appeared  to  be  the 
first  act  and  piologue  of  our  play.  * , 

“But  what  shall  we  do  for  money,  captain  Ma- 
rion ?”  said  I. 

“ Why,”  replied  he,  “ we  must  get  it  from  the  as- 
sembly.” 

The  assembly  was  accordingly  applied  to,  but  alas  ! 
u could  no<t  help  us  to  a single  dollar  !” 

I wonder  whether  posterity  will  ever  muster  faith 
to  believe  that  the  gray  heads  of  South  Carolina, 
without  a penny  in  pocket,  ventured  to  war  with 
Great  Britain,  the  nation  of  the  longest  purse  in  Eu- 
rope ? Surely  it  w'as  of  him  who  pitied  young  David 
with  his  maiden  sling  and  pebbles  against  the  giant 
Goliah. 

But  though  the  poverty  of  the  legislature  was 
enough  to  have  thrown  a damp  on  spirits  of  ordinary 
heat,  yet  to  a flaming  zeal  like  ours,  it  only  served  as 
water  on  a fiery  furnace,  to  make  it  blaze  the  fiercer. 

“ Why  truly,  Horry  !”  said  Marion,  “ this  looks 
unpromising,  but  we  must  not  mind  it  my  hero.  I’ll 
tell  you  what — if  the  assembly  can’t  help  us,  we 
must  e’en  help  ourselves  ! So  come  let  us  try  what 
we  can  do  on  our  own  credit.” 

“ With  all  my  heart,”  I replied. 

So  away  went  we  to  borrow  money  of  our  friends 
in  Charleston ; I mean  hard  money.  And  hard 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION, 


29 


money  it  was  indeed.  The  gold  and  silver  all  ap- 
peared as  if  it  had  caught  the  instinct'  of  water- 
witches,  diving  at  the  first  flash  of  the  war,  to  the 
bottom  of  misers’  trunks  and  strong  boxes.  For  two 
whole  days,  and  with  every  effort  we  could  make, 
we  collected  but  the  pitiful  sum  of  one  hundred  dol- 
lars ! However,  fully  resolved  that  nothing  should 
stop  us,  we  got  our  regimentals  the  next  morning 
from  the  tailor’s,  and  having  crammed  our  saddle- 
bags with  some  clean  shirts,  a stout  luncheon  of 
bread  and  cheese,  and  a bottle  of  brandy,  we  mount- 
ed, and  with  hearts  light  as  young  lovers  on  a court- 
ing scheme,  we  dashed  off  to  recruit  our  companies. 
Our  course  was  towards  Georgetown,  Black  River, 
and  Great  Pedee.  Fortune  seemed  to  smile  on  our 
enterprise  ; for  by  the  time  we  reached  Pedee,  we 
had  enlisted  thirty-seven  men,  proper  tall  fellows,  to 
whom  we  gave  furloughs  of  two  days  to  settle  their 
affairs,  and  meet  us  at  the  house  of  a Mr.  Bass,  ta- 
vern-keeper, with  whom  we  lodged.  I should  have 
told  the  reader,  that  we  had  with  us,  a very  spirited 
young  fellow  by  the  name  of  Charnock,  who  was  my 
lieutenant. 

On  the  second  day,  a captain  Johnson  of  the  militia, 
came  to  Bass’s,  and  took  lieutenant  Charnock  aside, 
and  after  prattling  a great  deal  to  him  about  the 
M cursed  hardship,”  as  he  was  pleased  to  call  it,  u of 
kidnapping  poor  clodhoppers  at  this  rate,”  he  very 
cavalierly  offered  him  a guinea  for  himself,  and  a half 
joe  a-piece  for  Marion  and  me  to  let  the  recruits  go. 

Never  did  a poor  silly  puppy  more  completely  take 
the  wrong  sow  by  the  ear,  than  did  Mr.  captain  John- 
son, in  thus  tampering  with  lieutenant  Charnock.  Foi 
Charnock,  though  remarkably  good  nature d and  po- 
lite among  men  of  honour,  could  not  bear  the  least 
approach  of  any  thing  that  looked  like  rascality.  Im- 
mediately, therefore,  on  hearing  this  infamous  pro- 
position, he  brought  Johnson  into  the  dining  room 
C 2 


30 


THE  LIFE  OF 


where  Marion  and  myself  were  sitting,  and,  in  his 
presence,  told  ns  the  whole  affair. 

Oh  that  my  young  countrymen  could  all  have  been 
there,  that  they  might  have  seen  what  a pale,  trem"- 
bling,  pitiful  figure  a detected  rascal  makes  ! I an 
sure  they  could  never  have  lost  that  blessed  mo- 
ment’s impression  in  favour  of  truth  and  honour. 

After  much  swallowing,  Johnson,  howe  ver,  at  last, 
got  the  better  of  his  conscience,  and  came  on  with  a 
stout  denial  of  the  fact.  Whereupon  Charnock, 
snatching  a pair  of  pistols,  ordered  him  to  take  one 
and  fight  him  on  the  spot.  This  being  refused,  the 
furious  lieutenant  instantly  fell  upon  him  with  a cane. 
Sensible  that  Johnson  had  very  richly  deserved  this 
ignominious  chastisement,  we  gave  him  up  to  Char- 
nock, who  thrashed  him  very  soundly,  until,  falling1 
on  his  knees,  he  roared  out  for  quarter.  Charnock 
then  ordered  him  to  be  gone,  but  with  the  severest 
thr  eats  in  case  the  recruits  were  not  forthcoming  at 
the  appointed  time. 

On  the  morrow  they  came,  and  u let  the  cat  out  of 
the  bag.”  It  appeared  then,  that  that  most  worthless 
fellow,  Johnson,  had  told  the  poor  simple  recruits 
such  dreadful  stories  about  the  war,  that  in  their 
fright  they  had  offered  him  all  their  cows  and  calves 
to  get  them  off! 

Our  success  in  the  recruiting  business  far  exceed- 
ed our  expectations,  for  in  a very  short  time  we  made 
up  cur  full  complement  of  sixty  men  each.  I have 
often  lamented  it  as  a most  serious  misfortune  that 
we  did  not  enlist  for  the  war.  I am  certain  we  could 
as  easily  have  enlisted  for  the  war  as  for  six  months. 
W e should  then  have  had  a host  of  veterans,  masters 
of  their  dreadful  art,  inured  to  hardships,  scornful 
of  danger,  and  completely  able  to  purge  our  country 
of  her  cruel  invaders. 

As  a place  of  greater  security  from  the  enemy’s 
vessels,  Dorchester  had  been  pitched  on  as  a deposite 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


31 


for  ammunition  and  military  stores,  and  put  under  a 
guard  of  militia.  But  fearing  that  the  tories  might 
rise  upon  this  slender  force  and  take  away  our  pow- 
der, an  article,  at  that  time,  of  incalculable  value,  the 
council  of  safety  advised  to  add  a company  of  regu- 
lars, under  some  brave  and  vigilant  officer.  Marion 
had  the  honour  to  be  nominated  to  the  command, 
and,  on  the  19th  of  November,  1 775,  marched  to  the 
post,  where  he  continued,  undisturbed  by  the  tories, 
until  Christmas,  when  he  was  ordered  down  to 
Charleston  to  put  fort  Johnson  in  a state  © f defence. 

About  this  time  an  affair  happened  in  Charleston, 
which  filled  with  horror  all  who  witnessed  it.  Cap- 
tain Fuller,  of  the  second  regiment,  a gentleman  in 
other  respects  very  amiable  and  exemplary,  gave 
himself  up  to  hard  drinking,  and  to  such  an  excess  as 
brought  on  an  inflammation  in  the  brain.  In  this  fran- 
tic state,  with  wild  rolling  eyes,  and  a face  shockingly 
bloated  and  red,  he  would  behave  for  all  the  world 
as  if  he  were  leading  his  men  into  action.  u Come 
on,  my  brave  fellows,”  he  would  cry,  “ now  be  cool  and 
steady — reserve  your  fire  till  I say  the  word — now 
give  it  to  them,  my  heroes — hurra,  they  run,  they 
run.  I thank  you,  my  lads,  for  your  gallantry  in 
your  country’s  cause.” 

All  this  time  the  sweat  would  roil  in  torrents 
down  his  cheeks.  Then,  quite  exhausted,  he  would 
fall  on  his  knees,  and  with  clasped  hands,  and  eyes 
lifted  to  heaven,  would  pronounce  the  Lord’s  Prayer 
and  the  creed  in  the  most  moving  manner.  For 
several  days  the  soldiers  gathered  around  him  while 
thus  employed*:  and  often  with  tears  in  their  eyes, 
would  observe  the  total  ruin  which  intemperance  had 
brought  upon  this  once  elegant  young  gentleman.—- 
His  friends  in  the  country,  hearing  of  his  deplora 
ble  condition,  came  and  took  him  home,  where  death 
soon  put  an  end  to  all  his  miseries. 

In  a short  time  after  this,  our  regiment  was  de- 


32 


THE  LIFE  OF 


prived  of  another  very  genteel  young  officer,  A 
tenant  Perrineau;  who  also  fell  an  early  sacrifice  u_ 
that  most  shameful  and  detestable  practice  of  morn- 
ing slings  and  mid-day  draughts  of  strong  grog. 

After  these  two  tragedies,  the  reader  will  not,  I 
hope,  be  displeased  with  the  following  farce,  which 
was  acted  in  fort  Johnson,  while  Marion  was  repair- 
ing it,  in  January,  1776.  The  principal  actors  in  it, 
were  captain  Marion,  and  a young  lieutenant,  whose 
name,  delicacy,  yet  a while,  bids  me  suppress.  This 
officer,  though  in  his  person  as  handsome  as  Absalom, 
or  the  blooming  Adonis,  was  as  destitute  of  soul  as 
a monkey.  He  appeared  to  have  no  idea  above  that 
of  dress  and  diversion:  and  provided  he  could  but 
compass  his  own  little  pitiful  ends,  which  were  al- 
ways of  the  sensual  sort,  he  cared  not  how  shame- 
fully he  prevaricated  and  lied ; but  would  wink,  and 
grin,  and  chuckle,  as  if  he  had  done  some  great 
thing.  He  had  served  under  a score  of  captains, 
who  had  all  spoken  of  him  as  a slippery,  worth- 
less fellow,  whom  they  knew  not  what  to  do  with. 
But  though  most  heartily  despised,  the  fool  had  the 
vanity  to  think  himself  amazingly  clever ; and  ac- 
tually boasted  to  me  one  day,  that  he  would  soon  let 
me  see  how  far  he  was  over  my  famous  captain  Ma- 
rion’s speed.  Presently  he  hears  that  there  is  to  be, 
next  week,  a great  cock-fight  at  Dorchester.  Instant- 
ly his  childish  spirits  are  all  on  a fever  to  see  the 
cock-fight.  “ Oh  heavens  ! he  would  not  miss  the 
cock-fight  for  the  world !”  But  how  to  obtain  leave  of 
absence  from  the  fort  at  this  busy  time,  was  the  rub  ; 
however,  for  such  means  as  he  was  capable  of  using, 
an  invention  like  his  could  not  long  be  at  a loss.  In 
short,  he  wrent  to  Marion,  with  a doleful  face,  and  in 
piteous  accents,  stated  that  his  father,  an  excellent 
old  man  as  ever  son  was  blessed  with,  was  at  his  last 
gasp,  and  only  wanted  to  see  him  before  he  died. 

The  generous  Marion,  not  suspecting  that  so 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARIGN. 


goodly  an  outside  could  cover  such  falsehood,  did 
not  wait  to  hear  the  coming  petition,  but  instantly 
granted  his  wish,  unheard— u To  be  sure,  lieutenant, 
go,  by  all  means,  go  and'^ait  upon  your  father;  but 
xeturn  as  soon  as  possible,  for  you  see  how  much  we 
have  to  dp.” 

The  lieutenant  affected  to  be  quite  overcome  with 
Marion’s  generosity,  and  swore  he  would  be  back  in 
two  days,  or  at  farthest  in  three.  As  he  stepped 
along  by  me,  he  thrust  his  tongue  into  his  cheek,  and 
looked  prodigiously  arch,  as  if  he  had  achieved  a 
grand  exploit.. 

As  soon  as  he  w^as  gone,  I told  Marion  I suspect- 
ed it  was  all  a trick.  And  so  it  turned  out;  for  in- 
stead of  hurrying  off,  as  he  had  pretended,  to  see  his 
dying  father,  he  slipt  over  to  Charleston,  where,  for 
fear  of  being  seen  by  any  of  our  officers,  he  skulked 
about  in  the  lower  lanes  and  alleys  until  it  was  time 
to  go  up  to  the  cock-fight  at  Dorchester. 

At  length  after  a fortnight’s  absence, he  came  over 
to  the  fort,  and  entering  the  marquee,  where  Marion 
tvas  sitting  with  his  officers,  he  began  to  bow  and 
scrape.  As  if  not  perceiving  him,  Marion  turned 
his  head  another  way.  The  lieutenant  then,  exceed- 
ingly embarrassed,  came  out  with  his  apology, — -u  I 
am  sorry,  sir,  to  have  outstayed  my  time  so  long  ; 
but — but  I could  not  help  it — but  now  I am  returned 
to  do  my  duty.” 

Marion  turned  very  quickly  upon  him,  and  with 
a most  mortifying  neglect,  said,  “ Aye,  lieutenant, 
is  that  you  ? well,  never  mind  it — there  is  no  harm 
done — I never  missed  you.” 

The  poor  lieutenant  was  so  completely  cut  up,  that 
he  could  not  say  a word,  but  sneaked  off,  hanging 
down  his  head,  and  looked  much  more  like  a detect- 
ed swindler  than  a gentleman  soldier. 

The  officers,  who  were  all  prodigiously  pleased 
with  his  confusion,  presently  wrent  out  and  began  to 


THE  LIFE  OF 


C4 

rally  him — “ Ah,  ha,  lieutenant,  and  so  the  captain 
has  given  you  a set  down.” 

UA  set  down,”  replied  he  very  angrily,  “a  set 
down,  do  you  call  it ! I had  rather  a thousand  times 
he  hacl  knocked  me  down — an  ugly,  cross,  knock- 
kneed,  hook-nosed  son  of  a b-t-h  !” 

The  officers  almost  split  their  sides  with  laughing. 
The  story  soon  took  wind  ; and  the  poor  lieutenant 
did  not  hear  the  last  of  it  for  many  a day.  I have 
often  heard  him  say  that  nothing  ever  so  completely 
confounded  him,  as  did  that  dry,  cutting  speech  of 
Marion. 

u I was  never  at  a loss  before,”  said  he,  “ to  ma- 
nage all  other  officers  that  were  ever  set  over  me. 
As  for  our  colonel,  (meaning  Moultrie)  he  is  a fine, 
honest,  good-natured  old  buck.  But  I can  wind  him 
round  my  finger  like  a pack-thread.  But  as  for  the 
stern,  keen-eyed  Marion,  I dread  him.” 

The  truth  is,  Marion  wished  his  officers  to  be  gen- 
tlemen. And  whenever  he  saw  one  of  them  acting 
below  that  character,  he  would  generously  attempt 
his  reformation.  And  few  men,  perhaps,  ever  knew 
better  how  to  manage  truants  from  duty. 

To  a coarse,  conceited  chap,  like  our  lieutenant, 
Marion  gave  no  quarter,  but  checked  him  at  once, 
but  still  in  a way  that  was  quite  gentlemanly,  and 
calculated  to  overawe.  He  kept  him  at  arms’  length — • 
took  no  freedoms  with  him — nor  allowed  any — and 
when  visited  on  business,  he  would  receive  and  treat 
him  with  a formality  sufficient  to  let  him  see  that  all 
was  not  right. 

The  effect  of  such  management  evinced  the  cor- 
rectness of  Marion’s  judgment.  The  young  lieute- 
nant became  remarkably  polite,  and  also  attentive  to 
duty.  In  short,  no  subaltern  behaved  better.  And 
this  very  happy  change  in  his  manners,  was  soon 
succeeded  by  as  pleasing  a change  in  the  sentiments 
uf  all  around  him.  The  officers  of  the  regiment  grew 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


35 


fond  of  him — Marion  spoke  of  him  with  pleasure,  as 
an  excellent  soldier — and  he  of  Marion,  as  his  best 
friend. 

This  is  sufficient  to  show  the  truth  of  the  remark 
made  by  Aristotle — “that  there  is  no  art  so  difficult 
and  godlike  as  that  of  managing  men  to  their  own 
happiness  and  glory.” 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  clouds  of  danger  darker  and  darker— two  addi- 
tional regiments  raised — Marion  promoted  to  a ma- 
jority— fort  Moultrie  built — A British  fleet  and  ar- 
my invade  Carolina — grand  preparations  to  receive 
them — admirable  patriotism  oflthe  Charleston  ladies 
— heavy  attack  on  fort  Moultrie — glorious  defence 
of  the  garrison, 

THE  cloud  of  war  growing  still  darker  and  darker 
every  day,  the  council  of  safety  determined  to  raise 
a regiment  of  artillery,  and  another  of  infantry.  In 
consequence  of  this,  several  of  the  officers  of  the 
former  regiments  were  promoted.  Among  these  was 
my  friend  Marion,  who  from  the  rank  of  captain,  was 
raised  to  a majority.  His  field  of  duties  became,  of 
course,  much  more  wide  and  difficult,  but  he  seemed 
to  come  forward  to  the  discharge  of  them  with  the 
familiarity  and  alertness  of  one  who,  as  general 
Moultrie  used  to  say,  was  born  a soldier.  In  fact,  he 
appeared  never  so  happy,  never  so  completely  in  nis 
element,  as  when  he  had  his  officers  and  men  out  on 
parade  at  close  training.  And  for  cleanliness  of  per- 
son, neatness  of  dress,  and  gentlemanly  manners, 
with  celerity  and  exactness  in  performing  their  evo- 
lutions, they  soon  became  the  admiration  and  praise 
both  of  citizens  and  soldiers.  And  indeed  I am  not 


36 


THE  LIFE  OF 


afraid  to  say  that  Marion  was  the  architect  of  the 
second  regiment,  dnd  laid  the  foundation  of  that  ex- 
cellent discipline  and  confidence  in  themselves,  which 
gained  them  such  reputation  whenever  they  were 
brought  to  face  their  enemies. 

In  March,  1776,  I was  sent  over  with  my  com- 
pany, to  Sullivan's  island,  to  prevent  the  landing  of 
the  British  from  the  men  of  war,  the  Cherokee  and 
Tamar,  then  lying  in  Rebellion  road.  I had  not  been 
Itmg  on  that  station,  before  col.  Moultrie  came  over 
with  his  whole  regiment  to  erect  a fort  on  the  island. 

The  truth  is,  the  governor  had  of  late  become  con- 
foundedly afraid  of  a visit  from  the  British.  The 
great  wealth  in  Charleston  must,  he  thought,  by  this 
time,  have  set  their  honest  fingers  to  itching — and 
he  also  suspected  that  they  could  hardly  be  ignorant 
what  a number  of  jpoor  deluded  gentlemen,  called 
tories,  we  had  among  us. 

The  arrival  of  colonel  Moultrie,  with  the  second 
regiment,  afforded  me  infinite  satisfaction.  It  brought 
me  once  more  to  act  in  concert  with  Marion.  ’Tis 
true,  he  had  got  one  grade  above  me  in  the  line  of 
preferment ; but,  thank  God,  I never  minded  that.  I 
loved  Marion,  and  “ love”  as  every  body  knows, 
w envieth  not”  We  met  like  brothers.  I read  in  his 
looks  the  smiling  evidence  of  his  love  towards  me  ; 
and  I felt  the  strongest  wish  to  perpetuate  his  par- 
tiality. Friendship  was  gay  within  my  heart,  and 
thenceforth  all  nature  without  put  on  her  loveliest 
aspects.  The  island  of  sand  no  longer  seemed  a 
dreary  waste.  Brighter  rolled  the  blue  waves  of 
ocean  beneath  the  golden  beam ; and  sweeter  mur- 
mured the  billows  on  their  sandy  beach.  My  heart 
rejoiced  with  the  playful  fishes,  as  they  leaped  high 
wantoning  in  the  air,  or,  with  sudden  flounce,  return- 
ed again,  wild  darting  through  their  lucid  element. 
Our  work  went  on  in  joy.  The  palmetto  trees  were 
brought  to  us  by  the  blacks,  in  large  rafts , of  which 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


37 


we  constructed,  for  our  fort,  an  immense  pen,  two 
hundred  feet  long,  and  sixteen  feet  wide,  filled  with 
sand  to  stop  the  shot.  For  our  platforms,  we  had 
two-inch  oak  planks,  nailed  down  with  iron  spikes. 
With  glad  hearts  we  then  got  up  our  carriages  and 
mounted  our  guns,  of  which  twelve  were  18  pound- 
ers— twelve  24’s,  and  twelve  French  36’s,  equal  to 
English  42’s. 

A general  joy  was  spread  over  the  faces  of  our  regi- 
ment, as  we  looked  along  our  battery  of  thunderers. 

But  our  glorying,  under  God,  was  chiefly  in  our 
two  and  forty  pounders.  And  indeed  their  appear- 
ance was  terrible,  where  they  lay  with  wide  Cerbe- 
rean  mouths,  hideously  gaping  over  the  roaring 
waves,  and  threatening  destruction  to  the  foes  of 
liberty. 

They  were  soon  called  to  a trial  of  their  metal. — « 
For  on  the  31st  of  May,  while  we  were  all  busily 
driving  on  with  our  fort,  suddenly  a cry  was  heard, 
44  a fleet  l a fleet , ho  !”  Looking  out  to  sea,  we  all  at 
once  beheld,  as  it  were,  a wilderness  of  ships,  hang- 
ing, like  snow-white  clouds  from  the  north-east  sky. 
It  was  the  sirs  Parker  and  Clinton,  hastening  on  with 
nine  ships  of  war  and  thirty  transports,  bearing  three 
thousand  land  forces,  to  attack  Charleston. 

Such  a-n  armament  was  an  awful  novelty,  that  pro- 
duced on  us  all  a momentary  flutter  ; but,  thank  God, 
no  serious  fear.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  very  visi- 
ble in  every  glowing  cheek  and  sparkling  eye,  as  we 
looked,  laughing , on  one  another,  that  we  considered 
the  approaching  conflict  as  a grand  trial  of  courage, 
which  we  rather  desired  than  dreaded.  And  to  their 
equal  praise,  our  gallant  countrymen  in  Charleston, 
as  we  learned  daily,  by  the  boats,  were  all  in  fine 
spirits,  and  constantly  making  their  best  preparations 
to  receive  the  enemy.  And  still  my  pen  trembles  in 
my  hand  ; even  after  this  long  lapse  of  time,  it  trem- 
bles with  wonder  and  delight,  to  tell  of  that  immor- 
D 


as 


THE  LIFE  OF 


tal  fire,  which  in  those  perilous  days,  glowed  in  the 
bosoms  of  the  Charleston  fair.  Instead  of  gloomy 
sadness  and  tears,  for  the  dark  cloud  that  threatened 
their  city,  they  wore  the  most  enlivening  looks — 
constantly  talked  the  boldest  language  of  patriotism 
— animated  their  husbands,  brothers,  and  lovers  to 
fight  bravely — and,  for  themselves,  they  vowed  they 
would  u never  live  the  slaves  of  Britain ” Some  peo- 
ple in  our  days,  may  not  believe  me,  when  I add  of 
these  noble  ladies,  that  they  actually  begged  leave  of 
their  commandant,  to  let  them  “fight  by  the  sides  of 
their  relatives  and  friends.”  This,  though  a glorious 
request,  was  absolutely  refused  them.  For  who 
could  bear  to  see  the  sweet  face  of  beauty  rough- 
ened over  with  the  hard  frowns  of  war  ; or,  the  war- 
riors musket,  bn  those  tender  bosoms,  formed  of 
heaven  only  to  pillow  up  the  cheeks  of  happy  hus- 
bands, and  of  smiling  babes  ? 

But  though  the  spirits  of  the  ladies  were  willing, 
their  nerves  were  weak;  for  when  the  British  ships 
of  war  hove  in  sight,  opposite  to  the  town,  they  all 
went  down  to  the  shore  to  view  them.  And  then 
strong  fear,  like  the  cold  wind  of  autumn,  struck  their 
tender  frames  with  trembling,  and  bleached  their 
rosy  cheeks.  Some,  indeed,  of  the  younger  sort,  af- 
fected to  laugh  and  boast;  but  the  generality  re- 
turned silent  and  pensive,  as  from  a funeral,  hanging 
their  lovely  heads,  like  rows  of  sickly  jonquils,  when 
the  sun  has  forsaken  the  gardens,  and  faded  nature 
mourns  his  departed  beams.  Sisters  were  often  seen 
to  turn  pale  and  sigh,  when  they  looked  on  their 
youthful  brothers,  while  tender  mothers,  looking 
down  on  their  infant  cherubs  at  the  breast,  let  drop 
their  pearly  sorrows,  and  exclaimed,  u happy  the 
wombs  that  bear  not , and  the  paps  that  give  no  suck” 

In  consequence  of  a most  extraordinary  continuation 
of  calms,  baffling  winds,  and  neap  tides,  the  enemy’s 
ships  never  got  within  our  bar  till  the  27th  of  June  ; 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


39 


and  on  the  following  morn,  the  memorable  28th,  they 
weighed  anchor  on  the  young  flood,  and  before  a fine 
breeze,  with  top  gallant  sails,  royals,  and  sky  scrapers 
all  drawing,  came  bearing  up  for  the  fort  like  floating 
mountains. 

The  anxious  reader  must  not  suppose  that  we  were 
standing  all  this  while,  with  finger  in  mouth,  idly 
gaping  like  children  on  a raree  show.  No,  by  the 
Living  ! but,  fast  as  they  neared  us,  we  still  kept  our 
thunders  close  bearing  upon  them,  like  infernal  point- 
ers at  a dead  set ; and  as  soon  as  they  were  come 
within  point  blank  shot,  we  clapped  our  matches  and 
gave  them  a tornado  of  round  and  double-headed 
bullets,  which  made  many  a poor  Englishman’s  head 
ache.  Nor  were  they  long  in  our  debt,  but  letting 
go  their  anchors  and  clewing  up  their  sails,  which 
they  did  in  a trice,  they  opened  all  their  batteries,  and 
broke  loose  upon  us  with  a roar  as  if  heaven  and 
earth  had  been  coming  together. 

Such  a sudden  burst  of  flame  and  thunder,  could 
not  but  make  us  feel  very  queer  at  first,  especially  as 
we  were  young  hands,  and  had  never  been  engaged 
in  such  an  awful  scene  before.  Rut  a few  rounds 
presently  brought  us  all  to  rights  again,  and  then, 
with  heads  bound  up,  and  stripped  to  the  buff,  we 
plied  our  bull-dogs  like  heroes. 

The  British  outnumbered  us  in  men  and  guns,  at 
least  three  to  one,  but  then  our  guns,  some  of  them 
at  least,  were  much  the  heaviest,  carrying  balls  of 
two  and  forty  pounds  weight  ! and  when  the  mon- 
sters, crammed  to  the  throat  with  chained  shot  and 
infernal  fire,  let  out,  it  was  with  such  hideous  peals 
as  made  both  earth  and  ocean  tremble.  At  one  time 
it  appeared  as  though,  by  a strange  kind  of  accident, 
all  their  broad-sides  had  struck  us  at  once,  which 
made  the  fort  tremble  again.  But  our  palmettoes 
s^ood  the  fire  to  a miracle,  closed  up  without  sign  of 
splinter,  on  their  shot,  which  was  stopped  by  the  m- 


40 


THE  LIFE  OF 


termediate  sand  ; while,  on  the  other  hand,  ever} 
bullet  that  we  fired,  went  through  and  through  their 
ships,  smashing  alike  sailors,  timber-heads,  and  iron 
anchors,  in  their  furious  course.  And  thus  was  the 
order  of  our  battle — there,  a line  of  seven  tall  ships ; 
and  here,  one  little,  solitary  fort — there,  British  dis- 
cipline ; and  here,  American  enthusiasm — there, 
brave  men  fighting  for  a tyrant ; and  here,  heroes 
contending  for  liberty.  I am  old  now,  and  have  for- 
gotten many  things,  but  never  shall  I forget  the 
heart-burnings  of  that  day,  when  I heard  the  blast  of 
those  rude  cannon,  that  bade  me  be  a slave  ; and  still 
my  aged  bosom  swells  with  the  big  joy  when  I hear, 
which  I often  do  in  fancy’s  ear,  the  answer  of  our 
faithful  bull-dogs,  as  with  deafening  roar,  lurid  flame 
and  smoke,  they  hurled  back  their  iron  curses  on  the 
wicked  claim.  But  alas!  for  lack  of  ammunition,  our 
opening  victory  was  soon  nipped  like  a luckless 
flower,  in  the  bud  : for  the  contest  had  hardly  lasted 
an  hour,  before  our  powder  was  so  expended  that  we 
were  obliged,  in  a great  measure,  to  silence  our  guns, 
which  was  matter  of  infinite  mortification  to  us,  both 
because  of  the  grief  it  gave  our  friends,  and  the  high 
triumph  it  afforded  our  enemies.  “ Powder ! Powder! 
millions  for  powder /”  was  our  constant  cry.  Oh  ! 
had  we  but  had  plenty  of  that  noisy  kill-seed , as  the 
Scotchmen  call  it,  not  one  of  those  tall  ships  would 
ever  have  revisited  Neptune’s  green  dominion.  They 
must  inevitably  have  struck,  or  laid  their  vast  hulks 
along-side  the  fort,  as  hurdles  for  the  snail-loving 
sheep's  heads . Indeed,  small  as  our  stock  of  ammu- 
nition was,  we  made  several  of  their  ships  look  like 
seives,  and  smell  like  slaughter  pens.  The  commo- 
dore’s ship,  the  Bristol,  had  fifty  men  killed,  and  up- 
wards of  one  hundred  wounded  ! 

The  laurels  of  the  second  regiment  can  never  fade 
— the  destructive  effect  of  their  fire  gave  glorio’\s 
proof,  that  they  loaded  and  levelled  their  pieces  like 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


41 


men  who  wished  every  shot  to  tell.  They  all  fought 
like  veterans  ; but  the  behaviour  of  some  was  gal- 
lant beyond  compare  ; and  the  humble  names  of  Jas- 
per and  MlDonald  shall  be  remembered,  when  those 
of  proud  kings  shall  be  forgotten. 

A ball  from  the  enemy’s  ships  carried  away  our 
flag-staff.  Scarcely  had  the  stars  of  liberty  touched 
the  sand,  before  Jasper  flew  and  snatched  them  up 
and  kissed  them  with  great  enthusiasm.  Then 
having  fixed  them  to  the  point  of  his  spontoon,  he 
leaped  up  on  the  breast-work  amidst  the  storm  and 
fury  of  the  battle,  and  restored  them  to  their  daring 
station — waving  his  hat  at  the  same  time  and  huzza- 
ing, u God  save  liberty  and  my  country  for  ever  l” 

As  to  sergeant  McDonald,  while  fighting  like  a 
hero,  at  his  gun,  a cannon  ball  came  in  at  the  port- 
hole, and  mangled  him  miserably.  As  he  was  borne 
off,  he  lifted  his  dying  eyes,  and  said  to  his  comrades, 
w Huzza , my  brave  felloxvs , I die , but  dof^let  the  cause 
of  liberty  die  with  meP 

The  effect  of  our  last  gun,  and  which  happened  to 
be  fired  by  Marion,  is  too  remarkable  to  be  lost.  It 
was  his  lot  that  day  to  command  the  left  wing  of  the 
fort,  where  many  of  our  heaviest  cannon  were  plant- 
ed. As  from  lack  of  powder,  we  were  obliged  to 
fire  very  slow,  ^JVIarion  would  often  level  the  guns 
himself.  And  now  comes  my  story. — Just  after  sun- 
set the  enemy’s  ships  ceased  firing,  and  slipping  their 
cables,  began  to  move  off.  Pleased  with  the  event, 
an  officer  on  the  quarter  deck  of  the  Bristol  man  of 
war,  called  out  to  his  comrade,  “ Well , d — n my  eyes , 
Frank , the  play  is  overt  so  led  s go  below  and  hob  nob 
to  a glass  of  wine , for  I am  devilish  dry  /” 

“ With  cdl  my  heart , Jack;”  replied  the  other;  so 
down  they  whipped  into  the  cabin,  where  the  wine 
and  glasses  had  been  standing  all  day  on  the  table. 
At  that  moment,  one  of  our  two  and  forty  pounders 
being  just  loaded,  Marion  called  to  colonel  Moultrie 
D 2 


42 


THE  LIFE  OF 


and  asked  him  if  it  would  not  be  well  enough  to  give 
them  the  las  t blow . “ Yes”  replied  Moultrie,  w give 

them  the  parting  kick,” 

Marion  clapped  the  match,  and  away,  in  thunder 
and  lightning  went  the  ball,  which,  entering  the  cabin 
windows,  shattered  the  two  young  friends  ? thence 
raging  through  the  bulk-heads  and  steerage,  it  shiver- 
ed three  sailors  on  the  main  deck,  and,  after  all, 
bursting  through  the  forecastle  into  the  sea,  sunk 
with  sullen  joy  to  the  bottom. 

We  got  this  story  from  five  British  seamen,  who 
ran  off  with  the  Bristol’s  long  boat,  and  came  and 
joined  us  that  very  night. 

The  next  day,  that  noble  whig,  Mr.  William  Logan, 
sent  us  a couple  of  fat  beeves  and  a hogshead  of  rum, 
w to  refresh  usf  as  he  was  pleased  to  say,  w after  our 
hard  day's  work  ” And  on  the  second  day  after  the 
action,  the  governor  and  council,  with  numbers  of  the 
great  ladie^^gpd  gentlemen  of  Charleston,  came  over 
to  the  fort  to  visit  us.  W e all  put  on  our  u best  bibs 
and  tuckers ,”  and  paraded  at  the  water’s  edge  to  re- 
ceive them,  which  we  did  with  a spanking  feu  de  joiy 
and  were  not  a little  gratified  with  their  attentions 
and  handsome  compliments  paid  us,  for  what  they 
politely  termed  w our  gallant  defence  of  our  country ” 
And  indeed  to  see  the  looks  of  our  poor  soldiers, 
when  those  great  ladies,  all  glittering  in  silks  and 
jewels,  and  powdered  and  perfumed  so  nice,  would 
come  up  to  them,  in  faces  like  angels,  sparkling  and 
smiling  so  sweet,  as  if  they  would  kiss  them  ; I say, 
to  see  the  looks  of  our  poor  fellows,  their  awkward 
bows  and  broad  grins , and  other  droll  capers  they  cut 
no  human  being  could  have  refrained  from  laughing 

Presently  that  excellent  lady,  Mrs.  Colonel  Elliot 
(of  the  artillery,)  came  forward  and  presented  us  with 
y most  superb  pair  of  colours,  embroidered  with  gold 
and  silver  by  her  own  lily-white  hands. 

They  were  delivered,  if  I mistake  not,  to  the  brave 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION 


43 


sergeant  Jasper,  who  smiled  when  he  took  them,  and 
vowed  he  “would  never  give  them  up  but  with  his 

lifer 

Poor  fellow ! he  too  soon  made  good  his  promise, 
near  the  fatal  walls  of  Savannah. 

But  it  was  not  the  ladies  alone  that  were  attentive 
to  us,  for  that  great  man,  governor  Rutledge,  in  pre- 
sence of  the  regiment,  took  the  sword  from  his  side, 
and  with  his  own  noble  hand  presented  it  to  sergeant 
Jasper.  He  also  offered  him  a commission  on  the 
spot;  but  this,  Jasper  absolutely  refused.  44 1 am 
greatly  obliged  to  you,  governor,”  said  he,  “but  I 
had  rather  not  have  a commission.  As  I am,  I pass 
very  well  with  such  company  as  a poor  sergeant  has 
any  right  to  keep.  If  I were  to  get  a commission,  I 
should  be  forced  to  keep  higher  company : and  then, 
as  I don’t  know  how  to  read,  I should  only  be  throw- 
ing myself  in  a way  to  be  laughed  at !”  Parents, 
who  can  waste  on  grog  and  tobacco,  that  precious 
money  you  ought  to  educate  your  children  with, 
think  of  this ! 


44 


THE  LIFE  OF 


CHAPTER  V. 

Governor  Rutledge  harangues  the  troops — shows  Bri- 
tain's injustice  to  have  been  the  cause  of  the  Ameri 
can  xvar — independence  declared — great  joy  on  that 
account . 

ON  the  20th  of  September,  1776,  all  the  troops  in  $ 
Charleston  were  ordered  to  rendezvous  without  the 
gates  of  the  city,  to  hear,  as  we  were  told,  “ Some 
great  news.”  Soon  as  we  wem  paraded,  governor 
Rutledge  ascended  a stage,  and  in  the  forcible  man- 
ner of  a Demosthenes,  informed,  that  Congress  had 
dissolved  all  relation  with  England,  by  an  open  De- 
claration of  Independence. 

w You  are,  no  doubt,  gentlemen,”  said  he,  u sun 
prised,  and  perhaps  shocked  at  this  intelligence.  Rut 
however  painful  this  measure  may  be  to.  our  feelings, 
it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  our  safety. 

“ Under  the  sacred  name  of  i mother  country,’ 
England  has  long  been  working  our  ruirr.  I need  not 
tell  you  that  our  fathers  were  Britons,  who  for  liber- 
ty’s sake,  came  and  settled  in  this  country,  then  a 
howling  wilderness.  For  a long  time  they  ate  their 
bread,  not  only  embittered  with  sweat,  but  often  stain- 
ed with  blood — their  own  and  the  blood  of  their  chil- 
dren, fighting  the  savages  for  a dwelling  place.  At 
length  they  prevailed  and  found  a rest.  Rut  still  their 
hearts  were  towards  the  place  of  their  nativity ; and 
often  with  tears,  did  they  think  and  talk  of  the  white- 
clifted  island  where  their  fathers  dwelt.  Dying,  they 
bequeathed  to  us  the  same  tender  sentiments,  which 
we  cherished  with  a pious  care.  The  name  of  Eng- 
land was  a pleasant  sound  in  our  ears — the  sight  of 
their  ships  was  always  wont  to  fill  our  hearts  with  joy. 
We  hasted  to  greet  the  beloved  strangers  ; and  hur 
rying  them  to  our  habitations,  spread  for  them  out 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


45 


feast,  and  rejoiced  as  men  do  in  the  society  of  th  ' • 
dearest  friends. 

u Oh  ! had  our  mother  country  but  treated  us  with 
equal  affection — as  a tender  parent,  had  she  but 
smiled  on  our  valour — encouraged  our  industry— 
and  thus  exalted  the  horn  of  our  glory,  our  union 
and  brotherly  love  would  have  been  eternal ; and  the 
impious  name  of  independence  had  never  been  heard  ! 
But,  alas  ! instead  of  treating  us  in  this  endearing 
spirit,  she  cruelly  limited  our  commerce — compelled 
us  to  buy  and  sell  to  her  alone,  and  at  her  own 
prices — and  not  content  with  the  enormous  profits  of 
such  a shameful  traffic,  she  has  come,  at  length,  to 
claim  a right  to  tax  us  at  pleasure . 

u But,  my  countrymen,  will  you  suffer  thus  rudely 
to  be  wrested  from  you,  that  goodly  inheritance  of 
liberty,  which  was  bequeathed  to  you  by  your  gal- 
lant fathers  ? Will  you  thus  tamely  suffer  to  be  frus- 
trated all  the  glorious  designs  of  God  towards  you 
and  your  children  ? For  look  but  around  on  this  great 
land , which  he  has  given  you,  and  yon  bright  heavens, 
which  he  has  spread  over  your  favoured  heads,  and 
say  whether  he  ever  intended  those  mighty  scenes  to 
be  the  prison-house  of  slaves  ? — the  trembling  slave* 
of  a small  island  beyond  the  sea? — hewers  of  wood 
and  drawers  of  water,  planters  of  rice  and  pickers  oi 
cotton,  for  a foreign  tyrant  and  his  minions  ? No,  my 
friends,  God  never  intended  you  for  such  dishonour — 
and  can  you  be  so  wicked  as  to  bring  it  on  your- 
selves ? I trust  you  will  not.  Nay,  the  voices  of 
your  brave  countrymen  in  Congress,  have  said  you 
will  not , and  anticipating  your  heroic  sentiments,  have 
already  declared  you  a u tree  and  independent 
people!” 

u And  now  my  gallant  friends,  are  you  willing  to 
confirm  their  glorious  deed  ? Are  you  willing  this 
day,  in  the  sight  of  heaven,  to  swear  allegiance  to  the 
sovereignty  of  your  country,  and  to  place  her  in  the 


45 


THE  LIFE  OF 


highest  rank  of  nations,  by  proclaiming  her  inde- 
pendent ?” 

In  a moment  the  air  resounded  with  u Tes  ! yes  / 
independence!  independence  for  ever!  God  save  the 
independent  states  of  America  !'" 

The  oath  of  allegiance  was  then  tendered  to  the 
troops.  The  officers  with  great  alacrity  took  it  first: 
which  highly  pleased  the  common  soldiers,  who  rea- 
dily followed  their  patriotic  example.  Soon  as  the 
solemn  rite  was  performed,  the  governor  ordered  a 
feu  de  joie.  Instantly  at  the  welcome  word.  u handle 
armsf  the  eager  warriors  struck  theii  tire  docks, 
loud  ringing  through  all  their  ranks  ; and  presenting 
their  pieces,  rent  the  air  with  fierce  platoons  ; while 
the  deep  throated  cannon  like  surly  bull-dogs,' rolled 
their  louder  thunders  along  the  field  ; then  madly 
bounding  back  on  their  rattling  wheels,  they  to]  i to 
fancy's  ear , u Freedom's  sons  are  we , and  d— -n  the 
villains  that  would  make  us  slaves  !" 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


47 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Times  growing  squally — the  author  sets  out  a vagrant 
hunting — gets  into  hot  i water — narrowly  escapes 
with  his  life — catches  a host  of  vagabonds , but 
learns  from  experience , that , though  a rascal  may  do 
to  stop  a bullet , ytis  only  the  man  of  honour  that  can 
make  a good  soldier . 

“ THE  devilf  said  George  Whitefield,  “ is  fond 
of  fishing  in  muddy  waters — hence  it  is,  I suppose, 
that  that  grand  demagogue  has  always  been  so  fond 
of  war — that  sunshine  and  basking  time  of  rogues, 
which  calls  them  out,  thick  as  May-day  sun  calls  out 
the  rattle-snakes  from  their  stony  crannies. 

In  times  of  peace , the  waters  are  clear,  so  that  if 
the  smallest  Jack  (villain)  but  makes  his  appearance, 
eagle-eyed  justice , with  her  iron  talons,  is  down  upon 
him  in  a moment.  But  let  war  but  stir  up  the  mud 
of  confusion,  and  straightway  the  eyes  of  justice  are 
blinded — thieves  turn  out  in  shoals : and  devils,  like 
hungry  fishing-hawks,  are  seen  by  the  eye  of  faith , 
hovering  over  the  wretched  fry,  screaming  for  their 
Pre}\ 

This  was  exactly  the  case  in  South  Carolina.  The 
war  had  hardly  raged  there  above  a twelvemonth  and 
a day,  before  the  state  of  society  seemed  turned  up- 
side down.  The  sacred  plough  was  every  where 
seen  rusting  in  the  weedy  furrows — Grog  shops  and 
Nanny  houses  were  springing  up  as  thick  as  hops — 
at  the  he  use  of  God  you  saw  nobody — but  if  there 
was  a devil’s  house  (a  dram  shop)  hard  by,  you 
might  be  sure  to  see  that  crowded  with  poor  Laza- 
rites,  with  red  noses  and  black  eyes,  and  the  fences 
all  strung  along  with  starved  tackies,  in  grape-vine 
bridles  and  sheep-skin  saddles.  In  short,  the  whole 
country  was  fast  overrunning  with  vagabonds  , like 


48 


THE  LIFE  OF 


ravening  locusts,  seeking  where  they  might  light, 
and  whom  they  should  devour. 

44  Good  Heavens !”  said  Marion  to  me  one  day,  and 
with  great  alarm  in  his  looks,  44  what’s  to  be  done 
with  these  wretches,  these  vagrants  ? I am  actually 
afraid  we  shall  be  ruined  by  them  presently.  For 
you  know,  sir,  that  a vagrant  is  but  the  chrysalis  or 
fly  state  of  the  gambler,  the  horse-thief,  the  money- 
coiner,  and  indeed  of  every  other  worthless  creature 
that  disturbs  and  endangers  society.” 

w Why  colonel,”  replied  I,  w there’s  a conceit  in 
my  head,  which,  if  it  could  but  be  brought  to  bear, 
would,  I think,  soon  settle  the  hash  with  these  ras- 
cals.” 

44  Aye,”  replied  he, 44  well,  pray  give  it  to  us,  for  I 
should  be  very  fond  to  hear  it.” 

44  Why  sir,”  said  1, 44  give  me  but  a lieutenant,  ser- 
geant, and  corporal,  with  a dozen  privates,  all  of  my 
own  choosing,  do  you  see,  and  if  I don’t  soon  give 
you  a good  account  of  those  villains,  you  may,  with 
all  my  heart,  give  me  a good  suit  of  tar  and  fea- 
thers.” 

My  demand  was  instantly  complied  with.  Then 
taking  with  me  such  men  as  I knew  I could  depend 
on,  among  whom  was  the  brave  lieutenant  Jossilin,  I 
set  out  from  the  Long  Bluff,  towards  Sandhills.  The 
reader  will  please  to  take  notice,  that  in  our  hurry  we 
had  not  forgot  to  take  with  us  a constable  with  a pro- 
per warrant. 

We  had  gone  but  a few  miles,  before  we  fell  in 
with  a squad  of  as  choice  game  as  heart  could  have 
wished,  three  proper  tall  young  vagabonds  l profound- 
ly engaged  at  all  fours , in  a log  tippling  shop,  with 
cards  as  black  as  their  own  dirty  hands,  and  a tickler 
of  brandy  before  them!  and  so  intent  were  the 
thieves  on  fleecing  each  other,  that  they  took  no 
manner  of  notice  of  us,  but  continued  their  scoun- 
drel work,  eagerly  stretched  over  the  table,  thwack- 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


49 


tng  down  their  cards  with  filthy  knuckles,  and  at 
every  stroke  bawling  out,  w there's  a good  trick  l" 
w That's  as  good  as  he." 

u And  there's  the  best  of  the  three — huzza,  d — n 
me  ! at  him  again  my  hearties.” 

w Lieutenant  Jossilinf  said  I,  w grab  them  fellows." 
You  never  saw  poor  devils  in  such  a fright.  But 
soon  as  they  had  recovered  the  use  of  their  tongues* 
they  swore  like  troopers  that  they  were  the  u mos* 
honestest  gentlemen  in  all  Carolina." 

“ Aye  ! well,  I am  very  glad  to  hear  that,  gentle- 
men, said  I,  for  I love  honest  men  prodigiously,  and 
hope  the  magistrate  will  confirm  the  handsome  re- 
port you  have  made  of  yourselves.” 

So  off  we  set  all  together  for  the  magistrate.  About 
dinner  time  I ordered  a halt  at  the  house  of  one 
Johnson,  a militia  captain,  who  appeared  quite  over- 
whelmed with  joy  to  see  me. 

w Heaven  bless  us  !”  said  he,  u and  now  who  could 
have  believed  all  this  ? And  have  I,  at  last,  to  my 
heart’s  desire,  the  great  honour  of  seeing  under  my 
humble  roof  the  noble  major  Horry  ?" 

I told  him  I was  much  obliged  to  him,  for  his  po- 
liteness— but,  for  the  present,  was  rather  too  hungry 
to  relish  compliments.  “ Like  sweetmeats,  captain,” 
said  I,  “ a little  of  them  may  do  pretty  wrell  after  u 
good  dinner.” 

“ Oh,  my  dear  major !”  quoth  he,  “ and  how  sorry 
I am  now  that  I have  nothing  fit  for  dinner  for  you, 
my  noble  son  of  thunder — a saddle  of  fat  venison , 
major  ; or  a brace  of  young  ducks  ; or,  a green  goose 
with  currant  jelly,  and  a bottle  of  old  Madeira  to 
wash  it  down,  do  you  see,  major  ! something  nice  for 
you,  do  you  see,  major  !” 

u Nice ,”  said  I,  u captain  Johnson!  We  soldiers 
of  liberty  don’t  stand  upon  the  nice — the  substantial 
is  all  that  we  care  for — a rasher  of  fat  bacon  fro  m the 
E 


50 


THE  LIFE  OF 


coals,  with  a good  stout  lump  of  an  ash  cake,  is  nice 
enough  for  us.” 

u Oh,  my  dear  sir  !”  replied  he,  “ now  don't,  don't 
be  angry  with  me ; for  I was  only  sorry  that  I have 
nothing  half  so  good  for  you  as  I could  wish,  but 
such  as  it  is,  thank  God,  we  have  plenty;  and  you 
shall  have  a bite  in  a trice.”  So  off  he  "went,  as  he 
pretended,  to  hurry  dinner. 

Now  can  any  honest  man  believe  that  this  same 
man,  captain  Johnson,  who  had  been,  as  Paddy  says 
u sticking  the  blarney  into  me  at  that  rate”  could  have 
been  such  a scoundrel  as  to  turn  about  the  very  next 
minute,  and  try  all  in  his  power  to  trick  me  out  of 
mry  vagrants.  It  is,  however,  too  true  to  be  doubt- 
ed ; for  having  purposely  delayed  dinner  till  it  was 
late,  he  then  insisted  that  I must  not  deny  him  the 
“ very  great  honour  of  my  company  that  night”  Soon 
as  my  consent  was  obtained,  he  despatched  a parcel 
of  riders,  to  order  in,  with  their  guns,  as  many  of  his 
gang  as  he  thought  would  do.  In  the  course  of  the 
night,  snug  as  master  Johnson  thought  himself,  I got 
a hint  of  his  capers,  and  told  my  men  to  see  that 
their  guns  were  in  prime  order. 

While  breakfast  was  getting  ready,  (for  Johnson 
swore  I should  not  leave  him  u on  an  empty  stomach”') 
lieutenant  Jossilin  came  and  told  me  he  did  not  un- 
derstand the  meaning  of  so  many  ill-looking  fellows 
coming  about  the  house  with  their  guns  in  their 
hands. 

I replied  that  we  should  see  presently . 

Breakfast  then  making  its  appearance,  we  sat  down, 
and  while  we  were  eating,  (our  men  all  on  parade  at 
the  door)  Johnson’s  men  kept  dropping  in  one  after 
another,  till  there  were,  I dare  say,  as  many  as  thirty 
of  them  in  the  room,  all  armed . 

When  breakfast  was  over,  I turned  to  the  consta- 
ble, and  desired  him  to  look  to  his  charge , meaning 
the  three  vagrants,  for  that  we  would  start  as  soon  as 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


51 


Our  men  were  all  refreshed.  Upon  this  captain  John- 
son said  he  believed  he  should  not  let  the  prisoners  go. 

“ Not  let  them  go,  sir,’*  said  I,  “ what  do  you  mean 
by  that,  sir  ?” 

“ I mean,  sir,”  replied  he,  “ that  the  law  is  an  op- 
pressive one.” 

I asked  him,  still  keeping  myself  perfectly  cool,  if 
he  was  not  an  American  soldier  ? 

“Yes,  sir ,”  he  answered,  44  I am  an  American  sol- 
dier; and  as  good  a one,  perhaps,  as  yourself,  or  any 
other  man.” 

44  Well,  sir,  and  is  this  the  way  you  show  your  sol- 
diership, by  insulting  the  law  ?” 

44  I am  not  boqnd,”  continued  he,  44  to  obey  a bad 
law.” 

“ Rut,  sir,  who  gave  you  a right  to  judge  the  law  ?” 
44  I don’t  mind  that,”  quoth  he,  44  but  d- — n mey  sir, 
if  I’ll  let  the  prisoners  go.” 

u Very  well,  captain  Johnson,”  said  I,  w we  shall 
soon  try  that ; and  if  you  and  your  people  here, 
choose  to  go  to  the  devil  for  resisting  the  law,  on 
your  own  heads  be  the  bloody  consequences .” 

With  this  I gave  the  floor  a thundering  stamp,  and 
in  a moment,  as  by  magic,  in  bursted  my  brave  ser- 
geant and  men,  with  fixed  bayonets,  ready  for  slaugh- 
ter, while  Jossilin  and  myself,  whipping  out  our 
swords,  rushed  on  as  to  the  charge . 

A troop  >f  red  foxes  dashing  into  a poultry  yard, 
never  produced  such  squalling  and  flying  as  now  took 
place  among  these  poor  guilty  wretches — 44  Lord  have 
mercy  upon  us ,”  they  cried — clown  fell  their  guns — 
smack  went  the  doors  and  windows — and  out  of  both, 
heels  over  head  they  tumbled,  as  expecting  every  mo- 
ment the  points  of  our  bayonets.  The  house  was 
quickly  cleared  of  every  soul  except  Johnson  and  his 
lieutenant,  one  Lunda,  who  both  trembled  like  aspen 
leaves,  expecting  a severe  drubbing* 

44  Captain  Johnson,”  said  I,  44  don’t  tremble  j you 


52 


THE  LIFE  OF 


have  nothing  to  fear  from  me.  A man  who  can  act 
as  you  have  done,  is  not  an  object  of  anger,  but  con- 
tempt. Go  !(<and  learn  the  spirit  that  becomes  a gen- 
tleman and  an  American  soldier.” 

I should  have  observed,  that  as  we  advanced  to 
charge  Johnson’s  poltroons,  one  of  the  party,  a reso- 
lute fellow,  presented  his  gun  to  my  breast  and  drew 
the  trigger.  Happily,  in  the  very  instant  of  its  firing, 
lieutenant  Jossilin  knocked  it  up  with  his  sword;  and 
the  ball  grazing  my  shoulder,  bursted  through  the 
side  of  the  house. 

As  we  rode  off,  some  of  Johnson’s  fugitives  had  the 
audacity  to  bawl  out,  though  from  a very  prudent  dis- 
tance, threatening  us  that  they  would  yet  rescue  the 
prisoners  before  we  got  to  the  bluff.  But  they  wisely 
took  care  not  to  make  good  their  word,  for  they  were 
only  a pack  of  poor  ignorant  tories,  who  did  nothing 
on  principle , and  were  therefore  ready  to  quit  their 
purpose  the  moment  they  saw  danger  in  the  way. 

Our  success  at  vagrant  hunting  was  marvellous.  I 
hardly  think  we  could,  in  the  same  time,  have  caught 
as  many  raccoons  in  any  swamp  on  Pedee.  On  count- 
ing noses,  we  found,  that  in  our  three  weeks’  course, 
we  had  seized  and  sent  off  to  Charleston,  upwards 
of  fifty.  With  the  last  haul,  I returned  myself  to  the 
city,  where  I received  the  thanks  of  general  Howe* 
for  “the  handsome  addition ,”  as  he  was  pleased  to 
term  it,  u -which  I had  made  to  the  regiment .” 

But  on  trial,  it  was  found  that  such  vermin  were 
not  worthy  of  thanks,  nor  were  any  addition  to  the 
regiment,  except  as  disgust  to  the  men  and  vexation 
to  the  officers.  Destitute  of  honour,  they  performed 
their  duty,  not  like  soldiers,  but  slaves  ; and,  on  every 
opportunity,  would  run  off  into  the  woods  like  wild 
beasts. 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


53 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  brave  sergeant  Jasper  again  on  the  carpet — in  dis- 
guise visits  a British  post  at  Ebenezer — in  company 
of  sergeant  Newton,  makes  a second  trip  thither — 
affecting  view  of  an  American  lady  and  her  child ', 
with  other  whig  prisoners  at  Ebenezer — desperate 
resolve  of  Jasper  and  Newton,  to  rescue  them — theit 
bloody  confiict  and  glorious  triumph . 

IN  the  spring  of  1779,  Marion  and  myself  were 
sent  with  our  commands,  to  Purysburgh,  to  re-en- 
force general  Lincoln,  who  was  there  on  his  way  to 
attack  the  British  in  Savannah,  which  a few  months 
before  had  fallen  into  their  hands.  As  the  coxnt 
D’Estang,  who  was  expected  to  co-operate  in  this  af- 
fair, had  not  yet  arrived,  general  Lincoln  thought  it 
advisable  to  entrench  and  wait  for  him. 

While  we  were  lying  at  Purysburgh,  a couple  of 
young  men  of  our  regiment  achieved  an  act  of  gene- 
rosity and  courage,  which,  in  former  days,  would 
have  laid  the  ground-work  of  a heroic  romance.  One 
of  the  actors  in  this  extraordinary  play  was  the  brave 
sergeant  Jasper,  whose  name  will  for  ever  be  dear  to 
the  friends  of  American  liberty. 

Jasper  had  a brother  who  had  joined  the  British, 
and  held  the  rank  of  sergeant  in  their  garrison  at 
Ebenezer.  Never  man  was  truer  to  his  country  than 
Jasper,  yet  was  his  heart  so  warm  that  he  loved  his 
brother,  though  a tory,  and  actually  went  over  to  see 
him.  His  brother  was  exceedingly  alarmed  at  sight 
of  him,  lest  he  should  be  seized  and  hung  up  at  once 
as  a spy,  for  his  name  was  well  known  to  many  of  the 
British  officers.  But  Jasper  begged  him  not  to  give 
himself  much  trouble  on  that  head,  for,  said  he,  “ I am 
no  longer  an  American  soldier.” 

u Well,  thank  God  for  that,  William,”  replied  his 
brother,  giving  him  a hearty  shake  by  the  hand — 
E 2 


54 


fHE  LIFE  OF 


u an*  now  ay  the  word , my  boy , and  here  is  a 

commission  *<>r  w u,  with  regimentals  and  gold  to  boot , 
to  Jight  for  his  majesty .” 

Jasper  shook  his  head  and  observed*  that  though 
there  was  but  little  encouragement  to  -light  for  his 
country,  yet  he  could  not  find  in  his  heart  to  fight 
against  her.  And  there  the  conversation  ended. 

After  staying  with  his  brother  some  two  or  three 
days,  inspecting  and  hearing  all  that  he  could,  he  took 
his  leave,  and  by  a round  about , returned  to  camp,  and 
told  general  Lincoln  all  that  he  had  seen. 

Having  wasted  several  weeks  longer  of,  tiresome 
idleness,  and  no  news  of  the  French  fleet,  Jasper  took 
it  into  his  head  to  make  another  trip  to  Ebenezer. 

On  this  occasion  he  did  not,  as  before,  go  alone, 
but  took  with  him  his  particular  friend,  sergeant 
Newton,  son  of  an  old  Baptist  preacher,  and  a young 
fellow,  for  strength  and  courage,  just  about  a good 
match  for  Jasper  himself. 

He  was  received  as  usual,  with  great  cordiality  by 
his  brother,  to  whom  he  introduced  his  friend  New- 
ton, and  spent  several  days  in  the  British  fort,  with- 
out giving  the  least  alarm.  On  the  morning  of  the 
third  day  his  brother  had  some  bad  news  to  tell  him. 
u Aye  l what  is  it  ?"  he  asked,  “ what  is  it  ?" 
a Why,”  replied  his  brother,  “ here  are  some  ten  or 
a dozen  American  prisoners,  brought  in  this  morning, 
as  deserters  from  Savannah,  whither  they  are  to  be 
sent  immediately.  And  from  what  I can  learn,  it 
will  be  apt  to  go  hard  with  them,  for  it  seems  they 
nave  all  taken  the  king’s  bounty.” 

u Let's  see  Vm,”  said  Jasper,  “ let's  see  'em?' 

So  his  brother  took  him  and  Newton  to  see  them. 
And  indeed  it  was  a mournful  sight  to  behold  them, 
where  they  sat,  poor  fellows  ! all  hand-cuffed,  on  the 
ground.  But  all  pity  of  them  was  forgot,  soon  as 
the  eye  was  turned  to  a far  more  doleful  sight  hard 
bv,  which  was  a young  woman,  wife  of  one  of  the 


GEN.  FRANCI-S  MARION. 


5J 


prisoners,  with  her  child,  a sweet  little  boy  of  about 
five  years  old.  The  name  of  this  lady  was  Jones. 
Her  humble  garb  showed  her  to  be  poor,  but  her  deep 
distress,  and  sympathy  with  her  unfortunate  hus- 
band, showed  that  she  was  rich  in  that  pure  conjugal 
love,  that  is  more  precious  than  all  gold. 

She  generally  sat  on  the  ground  opposite  to  her 
husband,  with  her  little  boy  leaning  on  her  lap,  and 
her  coal  black  hair  spreading  in  long  neglected  tresses 
on  her  neck  and  bosom.  And  thus  in  silence  she  sat, 
a statue  of  grief,  sometimes  with  her  eyes  hard  fixed 
upon  the  earth,  like  one  lost  in  thought,  sighing  and 
groaning  the  while  as  if  her  heart  would  burst- — then 
starting,  as  from  a reverie,  she  would  dart  her  eager 
eyes,  red  with  weeping,  on  her  husband’s  face,  and 
there  would  gaze,  with  looks  so  piercing  sad,  as 
though  she  saw  him  struggling  in  the  halter,  herself 
a widow,  and  her  son  an  orphan.  Straight  her  frame 
would  begin  to  shake  with  the  rising  agony,  and  her 
face  to  change  and  swell ; then  with  eyes  swimming 
in  tears,  she  would  look  around  upon  us  all,  for  pity 
and  for  help,  with  cries  sufficient  to  melt  the  heart 
of  a demon.  While  the  child  seeing  his  father’s  hands 
fast  bound,  and  his  mother  weeping,  added  to  the 
distressing  scene,  by  his  artless  cries  and  tears. 

The  brave  are  always  tender-hearted.  It  was  so 
with  Jasper  and  Newton,  two  of  the  most  undaunted 
spirits  that  ever  lived.  They  walked  out  in  the  neigh- 
bouring wood.  The  tear  was  in  the  eye  of  both. 
Jasper  first  broke  silence.  u Newton,”  said  he,  amy 
days  have  been  but  few ; but  I believe  their  course  is 
nearly  done.” 

“ Why  so,  Jasper  ?” 

“ Why,  I feel,”  said  he,  “ that  I must  rescue  these 
poor  prisoners,  or  die  with  them ; otherwise  that  wo- 
man and  her  child  will  haunt  me  to  my  grave.” 

u Well,  that  is  exactly  what  I feel  too,”  replied 
Newton — w and  here  is  my  hand  and  heart  to  stand 


56 


THE  LIFE  OF 


by  you,  my  brave  friend,  to  the  last  drop.  Thank 
God,  a man  can  die  but  once,  and  there  is  not  so 
much  in  this  life  that  a man  need  be  afraid  to  leave 
it,  especially  when  he  is  in  the  way  of  his  duty.” 

The  two  friends  then  embraced  with  great  cor- 
diality, while  each  read  in  the  other’s  countenance, 
that  immortal  fire  which  beams  from  the  eyes  of  the 
brave,  when  resolved  to  die  or  conquer  in  some  glo- 
rious cause. 

Immediately  after  breakfast,  the  prisoners  were 
sent  on  for  Savannah,  under  a guard  of  a sergeant  and 
corporal  with  eight  men.  They  had  not  been  gone 
long,  before  Jasper,  accompanied  by  his  friend  New- 
ton, took  leave  of  his  brother,  and  set  out  on  some 
errand  to  the  upper  country.  They  had  scarcely, 
however,  got  out  of  sight  of  Ebenezer,  before  they 
struck  into  the  piny  woods,  and  pushed  hard  after 
the  prisoners  and  their  guard,  whom  they  closely 
dogged  for  several  miles,  anxiously  watching  an  op- 
portunity to  make  a blow.  But  alas  ! all  hopes  of 
that  sort  seemed  utterly  extravagant;  for  what  could 
give  two  men  a chance  to  contend  against  ten,  espe- 
cially when  there  was  found  no  weapon  in  the  hands 
of  the  two,  while  the  ten,  each  man  was  armed  with 
his  loaded  musket  and  bayonet.  But  unable  to  give 
up  their  countrymen,  our  heroes  still  followed  on. 

About  two  miles  from  Savannah  there  is  a famous 
spring,  generally  called  the  Spa , well  known  to  tra- 
vellers, who  often  turn  in  hither  to  quench  their  thirst. 
u Perhaps,”  said  Jasper,  “ the  guard  may  stop  there.” 
Then  hastening  on  by  a near  cut  through  the  woods, 
they  gained  the  Spa,  as  their  last  hope , and  there  con- 
cealed themselves  among  the  bushes  that  grew  abun- 
dantly around  the  spring. 

Presently  the  mournful  procession  came  in  sight, 
headed  by  the  sergeant,  who,  on  coming  opposite  to 
the  spring,  ordered  a halt.  Hope  sprung  afresh  in  our 
heroes’  boooms,  strong  throbbing  too*  no  doubt,  with 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


57 


great. alarms,  for  “ it  was  a fearful  odds”  The  cor- 
poral with  his  guard  of  four  men,  conducted  the  pri- 
soners to  the  spring,  while  the  sergeant  with  the 
other  four,  having  grounded  their  arms  near  the  road, 
brought  up  the  rear.  The  prisoners,  wearied  with 
their  long  walk,  were  permitted  to  rest  themselves  on 
the  earth.  Poor  Mrs.  Jones,  as  usual,  took  her  seat 
opposite  to  her  husband,  and  her  little  boy,  overcome 
with  fatigue,  fell  asleep  in  her  lap.  Two  of  the  cor- 
poral’s men  were  ordered  to  keep  guard,  and  the  other 
two  to  give  the  prisoners  drink  out  of  their  canteens. 
These  last  approached  the  spring  where  our  heroes  lay 
concealed,  and  resting  their  muskets  against  a pinev 
tree,  dipped  up  water : and  having  drank  themselves, 
turned  away,  with  replenished  canteens,  to  give  the 
prisoners  also.  “ Now  ! Newton , is  our  time  said 
Jasper.  Then  bursting,  like  two  lions,  from  their 
concealment,  they  snatched  up  the  two  muskets  that 
were  rested  against  the  pine,  and  in  an  instant  shot 
down  the  two  soldiers  that  kept  guard.  And  now  the 
question  was,  who  should  first  get  the  two  loaded 
muskets  that  had  just  fallen  from  the  hands  of  the 
slain.  For  by  this  time  the  sergeant  and  corporal,  a 
couple  of  brave  Englishmen,  recovering  from  their 
momentary  panic,  had  sprung  and  seized  upon  the 
muskets  ; but  before  they  could  use  them,  the  strong 
swift-handed  Americans,  with  clubbed  guns,  levelled 
each  at  the  head  of  his  brave  antagonist,  the  final  blow. 
The  tender  bones  of  the  skull  gave  way  beneath  the 
furious  strokes,  and  with  wide  scattered  blood  and 
brains  down  they  sunk,  pale  and  quivering  to  the  earth, 
without  a groan.  Then  snatching  up  the  guns  which 
had  thus,  a second  time,  fallen  from  the  hands  of  the 
slain,  they  flew  between  the  surviving  enemy,  and  or- 
dered them  to  surrender,  which  they  instantly  did. 

Having  called  the  prisoners  to  them,  they  quickly 
with  the  point  of  their  bayonets,  broke  off*  their  hand 
cuffs,  and  gave  each  of  them  a musket. 


58 


THE  LIFE  OF 


At  the  commencement  of  the  fray,  ppor  Mrs.  J ones, 
half  frightened  to  death,  had  fallen  to  the  ground  in  a 
swoon,  with  her  little  son  piteously  screaming  over 
her.  But  when  she  came  to  herself,  and  saw  her  hus- 
band and  friends  around  her,  all  freed  from  their  fet- 
ters and  well  armed,  she  looked  and  behaved  like  one 
frantic  with  joy.  She  sprung  to  her  husband’s  bosom 
and  with  her  arms  around  his  neck,  sobbed  out,  u Oh 
bless  God ! bless  God l my  husband  is  safe  ; my  husbana 
is  not  hung  yet then  snatching  up  her  child,  and 
straining  him  to  her  soul,  as  if  she  would  have  pressed 
him  to  death,  she  cried  out — u0  praise  l praise!  praise 
God  for  ever  I my  son  has  a father  yet  /”  Then  wildly 
darting  round  her  eyes  in  quest  of  her  deliverers,  she 
exclaimed,  “ Where  ! where  are  those  blessed  angels 
that  God  sent  to  save  my  husband  ?” 

Directing  h^r  eyes  to  Jasper  and  Newton,  wnere 
they  stood  like  two  youthful  Sampsons,  in  the  full 
flowing  of  their  locks,  she  ran  and  fell  on  her  knees 
before  them,  and  seizing  their  hands,  kissed  and 
pressed  them  to  her  bosom,  crying  out  vehemently, 
“ Dear  angels!  dear  angels!  God  bless  yoixl  God 
Almighty  bless  you  for  ever  !” 

Then  instantly,  for  fear  of  being  overtaken  by  the 
enemy,  our  heroes  snatched  the  arms  and  regimentals 
of  the  slain,  and  with  their  friends  and  captive  foes, 
recrossed  the  Savannah,  and  in  safety  rejoined  our 
army  at  Purysburgh,  to  the  inexpressible  astonish- 
ment and  joy  of  us  all. 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION 


50 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  count  D'  Estang,  with  the  French  fleet,  arrives  to 
attack  Savannah — our  army  marches  and  joins  him 
— -fatal  effects  of  D' Estanfs  politeness — biographi- 
cal dash  of  young  colonel  Laurens — curious  dialogue 
betivixt  him  and  the  French  general — unsuccessful 
attack  on  Savannah — -the  brave  Jasper  mortally 
wounded — is  visited  by  the  author  in  his  last  mo- 
ments— interesting  conversation — dies  like  a Chris- 
tian soldier . 

COULD  the  wishes  of  our  army  have  availed, 
those  gallant  soldiers,  (Jasper  and  Newton)  would 
long  have  lived  to  enjoy  their  past,  and  to  win  fresh 
laurels.  But  alas  ! the  former  of  them,  the  heroic 
Jasper,  was  soon  led,  like  a young  lion,  to  an  evil  net. 
The  mournful  story  of  his  death,  with  heavy  heart 
I now  relate. 

Scarcely  had  he  returned  from  Georgia,  laden,  as 
aforesaid,  with  glory,  when  an  express  came  into 
camp,  and  informed  that  the  count  D’Estang  was 
arrived  off  Ty  bee.  Instantly  we  struck  our  tents  and 
marched  for  the  siege  of  Savannah.  On  arriving  near 
that  fatal  place,  we  found  that  the  French  troops,  with 
their  cannon  and  mortars,  had  just  come  up.  Oh  ! 
had  we  but  advanced  at  once  to  the  attack,  as  became 
skilful  soldiers,  we  should  have  carried  every  thing 
before  us.  The  frighted  garrison  would  have  hauled 
down  their  colours  witheut firing  a shot.  This  lam 
warranted  to  say  by  the  declaration  of  numbers  of 
their  officers,  who  afterwards  fell  into  our  hands. 
But  in  place  of  an  immediate  coup  de  main , the 
courtly  D’Estang  sent  a flag,  very  politely  inviting 
the  town  to  do  him  the  extreme  honour  of  receiving 
their  surrender . 

The  British  commander  was  not  much  behind* 


GO  THE  LIFE  OF 

O 

hand  with  the  count  in  the  article  of  politeness,  for 
he  also  returned  a flag  with  his  compliments,  and 
requested  to  be  permitted  four  and  twenty  hours  to 
think  of  the  matter. 

If  the  asking  such  a favour  was  extraordinary,  what 
must  the  granting  of  it  have  been  ? But  the  accom- 
plished D’Estang  was  fully  equal  to  such  douceurs, 
for  he  actually  allowed  the  enemy  four  and  twenty 
hours  to  think  of  surrendering  ! \ 

But  instead  of  thinking , like  simpletons,  they  fell 
>o  entrenching,  like  brave  soldiers.  And  being  joined 
that  very  day  by  colonel  Maitland  from  Beaufort, 
with  a regiment  of  Highlanders,  and  assisted  by 
swarms  of  negroes,  decoyed  from  their  masters  un- 
der promise  of  freedom,  they  pushed  on  their  works 
with  great  rapidity.  According  to  the  report  of  our 
troops  who  were  encamped  nearest  to  them,  nothing 
was  heard  all  that  night,  but  the  huzzas  of  the  sol- 
diers, the  lashes  of  cow-hides,  and  the  cries  of  ne- 
groes. 

I never  beheld  Marion  in  so  great  a passion.  I was 
actually  afraid  he  would  have  broke  out  on  general 
Lincoln.  “ My  God  1”  he  exclaimed,  “ who  ever  heard 
of  any  thing  like  this  before  l— first  allow  an  enemy 
to  entrench , and  then  fight  him  l ! See  the  destruction 
brought  upon  the  British  at  Bunker's  Hill  l and  yet  our 
troops  there  were  only  militia  ! raw , half -armed  clod- 
hoppera ! and  not  a mortar , nor  carronade , nor  even  a 
swivel — but  only  their  ducking  guns  ! 

“ What  then  are  we  to  expect  from  regulars— com- 
pletely armed  with  a choice  train  of  artillery,  and 
covered  by  a breast-work!  For  my  own  part,  when 
I look  upon  my  brave  fellows  around  me,  it  wrings 
me  to  the  heart,  to  think  how  near  most  of  them  are 
t c their  bloody  graves.” 

In  fact,  Marion  was  so  outrageous,  as  indeed  were 
all  of  us,  that  we  at  length  begged  colonel  Laurens 
to  speak  to  the  count  D’Estang. 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


61 


And  here  I must  beg  the  reader’s  pardon  a mo- 
ment, while  I inform  him  that  this  colonel  Laurens 
(son  of  President  Laurens)  was  a very  extraordinary 
young  Carolinian 

On  a trip  to  London,  he  fell  in  love  with,  and  mar- 
ried a celebrated  belle  of  that  city.  It  would  seem 
that  he  was  very  much  taken  with  his  English  rela- 
tions, and  they  with  him,  for  after  his  marriage,  they 
would  not  suffer  him  to  revisit  his  parents,  who 
doated  on  him,  being  their  only  son,  but  detained 
him  with  them  in  London,  as  gay  as  a young  man 
well  could  be,  in  the  gayest  city  in  the  world,  moving 
every  day  in  the  highest  circles  of  society,  and  every 
night  encircled  in  the  fond  arms  of  a beauteous 
wife. 

But  soon  as  the  war  against  America  broke  out, 
his  gaiety  all  forsook  him.  The  idea  of  a ruffian  sol- 
diery overrunning  his  native  land,  preyed  incessantly 
on  his  spirits,  and  threw  him  into  those  brown  stu- 
dies which  cost  his  lady  full  many  a tear.  Unable 
to  bear  his  disquietude,  he  fled  at  length  from  his 
wife  and  infant  family,  to  fight  for  his  country.  He 
presented  himself  before  the  great  Washington,  who 
was  so  struck  with  the  fire  that  beamed  from  his 
eyes,  that  he  made  him  handsome  offers  of  rank  in 
the  army.  But  his  favourite  service  was  to  lead 
forlorn  hopes , and  the  daring  band's  that  are  destined 
to  carry  the  enemy’s  works  by  storm.  Washington 
often  gave  him  letters  to  this  effect  to  his  generals. 
And  this  was  his  object  at  Savannah,  w%  *:  a regi- 
ment of  choice  infantry  was  immediately  pn-  under 
his  command.  But  instead  of  being  permit  a 1 his 
favourite  pleasure  of  seeing  his  ardent  a riois 
mounting  the  enemy’s  works,  and  rushing  down 
streams  of  fire,  followed  by  the  bayonet,  b was 
doomed  to  fret  and  pine  in  the  humble  office  of 
interpreter  between  count  D’Estang  and  general 
Lincoln. 

F 


62 


t6e  life  of 


u Bat,  Monsieur  le  count,’’  said  Laurens  to  D’Es- 
tang,  u the  American  officers  say  they  are  afraid  you 
have  given  the  English  too  long  time  to  think.” 

At  this,  as  Laurens  told  us  afterwards,  the  count 
put  on  a most  comic  stare , and  breaking  into  a hearty 
laugh,  replied,  w De  Engleesh  tink  ! ha,  ha,  ha  ! By 
gar  dat  one  ver  good  parole  ! De  Engleesh  tink,  heh, 
Monsieur  le  colonel ! By  gar,  de  Engleesh  never  tink, 
but  for  deir  hellie.  Give  de  Jack  Engleeshman  plenty 
beef — plenty  pudding — plenty  porter,  by  gar  he  never 
tink  any  more,  he  lay  down,  he  go  a sleep  like  vun 
hog.” 

uBut,  Monsieur  le  count,”  continued  Laurens, 
u the  English  are  doing  worse  for  us  than  thinking. 
They  are  working  away  like  horses,  and  will  soon 
get  their  defences  too  high  for  us  to  scale.” 

u Eh,  heh,  Monsieur  le  colonel ! you  tink-a  so  ? 
Well  den,  by  gar  you  no  need  for  tink-a  so— by  gar 
my  French-a-mans  run  over  de  fence  just  like  vun 
tief  horse  run  over  de  cornfield  fence — mind  now  I 
tell-a  you  dat,  Monsieur  le  colonel.” 

w Well,  but  Monsieur  le  count,  the  British  some- 
times fight  like  the  d — 1.” 

u Sacre  Dieu  !”  replied  the  nettled  count,  starting 
and  gaping  as  though  he  would  have  swallowed  a 
young  alligator — u de  Briteesh  fight  like  de  diable  ! 
Jaun  foutre  de  Briteesh  ! when  they  been  known  for 
fight  like  de  diable  ? Ess,  ess,  dat  true  enough ; dcy 
fight  de  Americans  like  de  diable— but  by  gar  dey 
no  fight  de  French-a-mans  so — no  no,  by  gar  dey  no 
make  one  moutful  for  my  French-a  -mans — Morbleu  ! 
my  French-a-mans  eat  dem  up  like  vun  leetle  gre- 
nouille.” 

Great  Owl! ” exclaimed  one  of  general  Lincoln’s 
aids — u Oh  my  God  ! who  ever  heard  of  a green  owl 
before  ?” 

Here  Laurens,  smiling  at  the  officer’s  mistake,  re 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


63 


plied, 44  not  green  ozvl , sir,  but  grenouille  ; grenouille, 
sir,  is  the  French  for  frog.” 

44  Aye,  sure  enough,  sure  enough, continued 
the  count,  “frog ; grenouille  is  frog . By  gar,  Mon- 
sieur le  colonel,  you  be  vun  dam  good  interpret , I 
set  dat  well  enough.  Well  den,  now,  Monsieur  le 
colonel,  you  hear-a  me  speak — my  French-a-mans 
eat  dem  Jack  Engleesh  all  same  like  vun  leetle  frog.” 
4 Oh  to  be  sure  ! — no  doubt  of  all  that,  Monsieur 
le  count — but,  before  we  eat  them  up,  they  may  kill 
i great  many  of  our  soldiers.” 

44  Dey  kill-a  de  soldier !”  replied  the  passionate 
count — 44  well  what  den  if  dey  do  kill-a  de  soldier! 
faun  foutre  de  soldier  ! what  dey  good  for  but  for  be 
*ill  ? dat  deir  trade.  You  give-a  vun  poor  dog  sol- 
dier, two,  three,  four  penny  a day,  he  go  fight — he 
get  kill.  Well  den,  what  dat  ? By  gar  he  only  get 
what  he  hire  for.” 

44  But  pardon  me,  Monsieur  le  count,  we  can't 
spare  them.” 

44  Vat!  no  spare  de  soldier!  de  grand  Monarque 
no  spare  de  soldier  ? O mon  Dieu  ! Vy,  Monsieur  le 
colonel — for  why  you  talk-a  so  ? Well  den,  hear-a 
me  speak  now,  Monsieur  le  colonel — you  see  de  star 
in  de  sky ; de  leaf  on  de  tree ; de  sand  on  de  shore 
— you  no  see  all  dat,  heh  ? \Yell  den,  by  gar,  Mon- 
sieur le  colonel,  de  grand  Monarque  got  soldier  more 
an-a  all  dat— ess,  sacra  Dieu ! more  an-a  all  dat,  by 
gar.” 

44  Well  but,  Monsieur  le  count,  is  it  not  cruel  to 
kill  the  poor  fellows  notwithstanding  ?” 

44  Pooh  /”  replied  the  count,  throwing  back  his 
head,  and  puffing  out  his  cheeks  as  when  a segar 
6ucker  explodes  a cataract  of  smoke  from  the  crater 
of  his  throat ; 44  cruel ! vat  cruel  for  kill-a  de  sol- 
dier ! by  gar.  Monsieur  le  colonel,  you  make-a  de 
king  of  France  laugh  he  hear-a  you  talk  after  dat 
fas  hong.  Let-a  me  tell  you,  Monsieur  le  colonel,  de 


64 


THE  LIFE  OF 


king  of  France  no  like  general  Washington — by  gar, 
general  Washington  talk  wi’  de  soldier — he  shake 
hand  wi’  de  soldier — he  give  de  soldier  dram — By 
gar,  de  grand  Monarque  no  do  so — no,  sacra  Dieu ! 
he  no  look  at  de  soldier.  When  de  king  of  France 
ride  out  in  de  coach  royale  w:d  de  supeerb  horses, 
and  harness  shining  so  bright  all  vun  like  gold,  if  he 
run  over  one  soldier,  you  tink  he  going  stop  for  dat  ? 
No,  sacra  foutre  ! he  ride  on  so,  all  one  like  if  nothing 
at  all  been  happen.  Jaun  foutre  de  soldier  ! let  him 
prenez  garde  for  himself ; by  gar  de  grand  Monarque 
no  mind  dat.  De  grand  Monarque  only  tink  of  de 
soldier  commes  des  chiens , like  de  poor  dam  dog  for 
fight  for  him.” 

Thus  ended  the  dialogue  between  colonel  Laurens 
and  the  count  D’Estang. 

The  next  day,  the  memorable  twenty-four  hours 
being  expired,  a flag  was  sent  into  town  to  know  the 
determination  of  the  British  officer,  who  very  polite- 
ly replied,  that  having  consulted  his  pillow,  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  defend  the  place.  A regular 
siege  was  then  commenced,  and  continued  for  three 
weeks : at  the  end  of  which  an  attack  was  made,  and 
with  the  success  which  Marion  had  all  along  pre- 
dicted. After  a full  hour’s  exposure  to  the  destruc- 
tive rage  of  grape  shot  and  musketry,  we  were 
obliged  to  make  a precipitate  retreat ; leaving  the 
ground  covered  with  the  mingled  carcasses  of  400 
Americans  and  800  Frenchmen.  Marion’s  corps 
fighting  with  their  usual  confidence,  suffered  great 
loss  ; himself  did  not  receive  a scratch.  Colonel 
Laurens  raged  like  a wounded  lion.  Soon  as  the 
retreat  was  ordered  he  paused,  and  looking  round  on 
his  fallen  men,  cried  out, w Poor  fellows,  I envy  you !” 
then  hurling  his  sword  in  wrath  against  the  grounds 
he  retired.  Presently,  after  we  had  reached  our  en- 
campment, he  came  to  my  marquee,  and  like  one 
greatly  disordered,  said,  44  Horry,  my  life  is  a bur- 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


6J 


den  tome  ; I would  to  God  I was  lying  on  yondei 
field  at  rest  with  mv  poor  men !” 

u No  ! no ! none  of  that,  colonel,”  said  I,  u none  ot 
that;  I trust  we  shall  live  to  pay  them  yet  for  all 
this.” 

And  so  it  turned  out.  And  though  for  humanity’s 
ake,  I ought  not  to  boast  of  it,  yet  we  did  live  to  pay 
diem  for  it,  and  often  too : and  in  the  same  bloody 
coin  which  they  gave  us  that  day.  *And  although  in 
that  fiery  season  of  my  days,  and  when  my  dear 
country  was  in  danger,  it  was  but  natural  for  me  to 
iiejoice  in  the  downfall  of  my  enemies,  yet  I was  often 
witness  to  scenes,  which  to  this  day  I can  never  think 
of  but  with  sorrow — as  when,  for  example,  after 
lashing  upon  an  enemy  by  surprise,  and  cutting  one 
half  of  them  to  pieces  and  chasing  the  rest,  we  re- 
turned to  collect  the  horses  and  arms  of  the  slain. 
Who,  I say,  without  grief  could  behold  those  sad 
sights  which  then  offered  themselves,  of  human  be- 
ings lying  mangled  over  the  crimson  ground — some 
stone  dead,  some  still  alive  and  struggling,  with 
brains  oozing  from  their  cloven  skulls — and  others 
sitting  up,  or  leaning  on  their  elbows,  but  pale  with 
loss  of  blood,  running  in  streams  from  their  morta> 
wounds ; and  they  themselves  looking  down,  the 
while,  sadly  thinking  of  home  and  of  distant  wive* 
and  children,  whom  they  shall  never  see  again. 

Such  thoughts,  if  often  cherished,  would  much 
abate  the  rancour  of  malice  in  the  hearts  of  those 
whose  sad  destiny  it  is  to  kill  one  another ; especially 
if  it  were  known  how  short  sometimes  are  the  tri* 
umphs  of  the  victor.  It  was  remarkably  so  in  the  pre 
sent  case  : for  colonel  Maitland,  of  the  Highlanders, 
who  had  contributed  a large  part  to  this  very  unex^ 
pected  victory,  was  so  elated  by  it,  that  he  took  to 
hard  drinking,  and  killed  himself  in  a single  xeeeh\ 
and  the  sickly  season  coming  on,  the  greater  pan 
F 2 


66 


THE  LIFE  OF 


of  the  garrison  perished  of  the  yellow  or  bilious 
fever ! ! 

Thus  friends  and  foes  the  same  sad  fortune  shar’d, 

And  sickness  swallowed  whom  the  sword  had  spar'd. 

Many  gallant  men  were  the  victims  of  count  D’Es- 
tang’s  folly  in  this  affair;  among  the  number  was  that 
impetuous  Polander,  the  count  Polaski. 

But  none  fell  more  universally  lamented,  than  the 
heroic  Jasper.  Every  reader  must  wish  to  hear  the 
last  of  this  brave  and  generous  soldier.  And  they 
shall  have  it  faithfully,  for  I happened  to  be  close  by 
him  when  he  received  his  death’s  wound  ; and  I was 
with  him  when  he  breathed  his  last. 

Early  in  the  action,  the  elegant  colours  presented 
by  Mrs.  Elliot,  had  been  planted  on  the  enemy’s 
works  ; and  the  fury  of  the  battle  raged  near  the  spot 
where  they  waved.  During  the  whole  of  the  bloody 
fray,  Jasper  had  remained  unhurt.  But  on  hearing 
the  retreat  sounded,  he  rushed  up  to  bear  off  his 
colours,  and  in  that  desperate  act,  was  mortally 
wounded.  As  he  passed  by  me,  wTith  the  colours  in 
his  hands,  I observed  he  had  a bad  limp  in  his  walk. 

“ You  are  not  much  hurt,  I hope,  Jasper/’  said  I. 

“ Yes,  major,”  he  replied,  “ I believe  I have  got  my 
furlough.” 

u Pshaw,”  quoth  I,  u furlough  indeed,  for  what?” 

“ Why  to  go  home,”  he  answered,  w to  go  to  Hea- 
ven, I hope.” 

“Pooh  !”  said  I,  and  having,  as  the  reader  must 
suppose,  a good  deal  to  attend  to,  I turned  off  and 
left  him.  However,  his  words  made  such  an  impres- 
sion on  me,  that  soon  as  duty  permitted,  I went  to 
see  him,  and  found  too  true  what  he  had  predicted  ; 
the  ball  had  opened  a blood  vessel  in  the  lungs  which 
no  art  could  stop,  and  he  was  bleeding  to  slow  but 
certain  death. 

As  I entered  the  tent,  he  lifted  his  eyes  to  me,  but 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


6 


their  fire  was  almost  quenched  ; and  stretching  his 
feeble  hand,  he  said,  with  perfect  tranquillity,  “ Well, 
major,  I told  you  I had  got  my  furlough.” 
u I hope  not,”  I replied. 

“ O yes  !”  said  he,  “ I am  going — and  very  fast 
too  ; but,  thank  God,  I am  not  afraid  to  go.” 

I told  him  I knew  he  was  too  brave  to  fear  death, 
and  too  honest  to  be  alarmed  about  its  consequences. 

“ Why,  as  to  that  matter,  sir,”  said  he,  u I won’t 
brag:  but  I have  my  hopes,  notwithstanding  I may 
be  wrong,  for  I know  I am  but  a poor  ignorant  body, 
but  somehow  or  other,  I have  always  built  my  hopes 
of  what  God  may  do  for  me  hereafter , on  what  he 
has  done  for  me  here  !” 

I told  him  I thought  he  was  very  correct  in  that. 
u Do  you,  indeed  ?”  said  he.  “ Well,  I am  mighty 
glad  of  that — and  now  major,  here’s  the  way  I always 
comfort  myself : Fifty  years  ago,  (I  say  to  myself,) 
I was  nothing , and  had  no  thought  that  there  was  any 
such  grand  and  beautiful  world  as  this.  But  still 
there  was  such  a world  notwithstanding;  and  here 
God  has  brought  me  into  it.  Now,  can’t  he,  in  fifty 
years  more,  or  indeed  in  fifty  minutes  more,  bring 
me  into  another  world,  as  much  above  this  as  this  is 
above  that  state  of  nothing , wherein  I was  fifty  years 
ago  ?” 

I told  him  that  this  was,  to  my  mind,  a very  happy 
way  of  reasoning ; and  such,  no  doubt,  as  suited  the 
greatness  and  goodness  of  God. 

“I  think  so,  major,”  said  he  “ and  I trust  I shall 
find  it  so  ; for  though  I’ve  been  a man  of  blood,  yet, 
thank  God,  I’ve  always  lived  with  an  eye  to  that 
great  hope . My  mother,  major,  was  a good  woman  ; 
when  I was  but  a child,  and  sat  on  her  lap,  she  used 
to  talk  to  me  of  God,  and  tell  how  it  was  he  who  built 
this  great  world,  with  all  its  riches  and  good  things  : 
and  not  for  himself  but  for  me ! and  also,  that  if  I 
would  but  do  his  will  in  that  only  acceptable  way,  a 


68  THE  LIFE  OF 

good  life,  he  would  do  still  greater  and  better  thi 
for  me  hereafter. 

“ Well,  major,  from  the  mouth  of  a dear  mother, 
like  her,  these  things  went  so  deep  into  my  heart, 
that  they  could  never  be  taken  away  from  me.  I 
have  hardly  ever  gone  to  bed,  or  got  up  again,  with- 
out saying  my  prayers.  I have  honoured  my  father 
and  mother;  and,  thank  God,  been  strictly  honest . 
And  since  you  have  known  me,  major,  I believe  you 
can  bear  witness,  that  though  a strong  man,  I nevei 
was  quarrelsome .” 

I told  him,  nothing  afforded  me  more  satisfaction, 
than  to  remember  that,  since  he  was  now  going  to 
die,  he  had  always  led  so  good  a life. 

He  answered,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  that  he  had  a 
good  hope  he  was  going  where  he  should  not  do  what 
he  had  been  obliged  to  do  in  this  world.  w I’ve  killed 
men  in  my  time,  major,  but  not  in  malice,  but  in  what 
I thought  a just  w ar  in  defence  of  my  country.  And 
as  I bore  no  malice  against  those  I killed,  neither  do 
I bear  any  against  those  who  have  killed  me.  And  I 
heartily  trust  in  God  for  Christ’s  sake,  that  we  shall 
yet,  one  day,  meet  together,  where  we  shall  forgive 
and  love  one  another  like  brothers.  I own,  indeed, 
major,  that  had  it  so  pleased  God,  I should  have  been 
glad  to  stay  a little  longer  wdth  you  to  fight  for  my 
country.  But  however,  I humbly  hope  that  my  death 
is  of  God  ; which  makes  it  welcome  to  me,  and  so  I 
bow  me  to  his  blessed  will.  And  now,  my  good  friend, 
as  I feel  I have  but  a little  time  to  live,  I beg  you 
will  do  a few  things  for  me  when  I am  dead  and 
gone.” 

I could  not  speak : but  gathering  my  answer  from 
my  tears,  and  the  close  press  I gave  his  hand,  he  thus 
went  on,  but  it  was  in  a low  voice  and  laborious, 

u You  see  that  sword  ? — It  is  the  one  which  go- 
vernor Rutledge  presented  to  me  for  my  services  at 
Fort  Moultrie — give  that  sword  to  my  father,  and 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


69 


tell  him  I never  dishonoured  it.  If  he  should  weep 
for  me,  tell  him  his  son  died  in  hope  of  a better  life. 
If  you  should  see  that  great  gentlewoman,  Mrs. 
Elliot,  tell  her  I lost  my  life  in  saving  the  colours  she 
gave  to  our  regiment.  And  if  ever  you  should  come 
across  poor  Jones  and  his  wife,  and  little  boy,  tell 
them  Jasper  is  gone;  but  that  the  remembrance  of 
the  hard  battle  which  he  once  fought  for  their  sakes, 
brought  a secret  joy  to  his  heart  just  as  it  was  about 
to  stop  its  motion  for  ever.” 

He  spoke  these  last  words  in  a livelier  tone  than 
usual,  but  it  was  like  the  last  kindling  of  the  taper  in 
its  oil-less  socket — for  instantly  the  paleness  of  death 
overspread  his  face,  and  after  a feeble  effort  to  vomit, 
with  convulsions,  the  natural  effect  of  great  loss  of 
blood,  he  sunk  back  and  expired. 

From  this  victim  of  D’Estang’s  madness,  I went 
with  a heavy  heart  on  parade,  to  take  a review  of  the 
sad  remains  of  the  battle.  The  call  of  the  roll  com- 
pleted the  depression  of  my  spirits.  To  every  fourth 
or  fifth  name  there  was  no  answer — the  gloomy  si- 
lence which  ensued,  told  us  where  they  were.  About 
twelve  o’clock  we  sent  in  a flag  to  the  garrison  for 
permission  to  bury  our  dead.  Curiosity  led  me  to 
accompany  tlie  party  destined  to  this  mournful  duty. 
I had  prepared  myself  for  a sorrowful  sight ; but 
ah  ! what  words  can  express  what  I then  saw  and 
suffered  ! 

A scattered  few  lay  here  and  there  on  the  utmost 
verge  oi  the  field,  killed  by  cannon  shot,  and  so  man- 
gled, that  in  some  instances,  it  was  hard  to  tell  who 
they  were.  As  we  advanced,  they  lay  thicker  and 
thicker.  Some,  not  quite  dead,  were  constantly  cry- 
ing, “ Water  ! water  ! — Oh  ! for  God’s  sake,  a little 
water!” — Others  lay  quite  dead,  but  still  their  life- 
less visages  retained  the  dark  frowns  of  war.  There, 
on  the  side  of  the  enemy’s  breast-work,  lay  the  brave 
ensign  Boushe,  covering,  with  his  dead  body,  the 


70 


THE  LIFE  OF 


very  spot  where  he  had  fixed  the  American  standard. 
His  face  was  pale  and  cold  as  the  earth  he  pressed, 
but  still  it  spoke  the  fierce  determined  air  of  one 
whose  last  sentiment  towards  those  degenerate  Bri- 
tons was,  u There,  d — n you  ! look  at  the  stripes  of 
liberty.” 

Close  by  ensign  Boushe,  lay  that  elegant  young 
man,  Alexander  Hume,  Esq.  with  his  sword  still 
grasped  in  his  stiffened  fingers.  My  heart  bled  within 
me,  when  I looked  on  young  Hume,  where  he  lay  in 
all  the  pale  beauties  of  death.  He  was  to  have  been 
married  the  week  following,  to  a charming  woman ; 
but  such  was  his  zeal  to  serve  his  country,  that  he 
came  a volunteer  to  our  camp,  and  met  his  death  the 
next  morning  after  he  joined  us.  Gifted  with  a pretty 
taste  for  painting,  he  had  tried  his  skill,  and  very 
successfully  too,  in  sketching  the  likeness  of  his  love- 
ly mistress.  For  on  opening  his  bosom,  was  found, 
suspended  by  a blue  riband,  (the  happy  lover’s  co- 
lour) a fine  likeness  of  the  beautiful  Miss : the 

back  of  the  portrait  was  stained  with  his  blood ; but 
unconscious  of  her  lover’s  fate,  she  still  wore  the  en- 
chanting smile  with  which  yielding  beauty  views 
the  youth  she  loves. 

We  then  proceeded  to  bury  our  dead  ; which  was 
done  by  digging  large  pits,  sufficient  to  contain  about 
a hundred  corpses.  Then  taking  off  their  clothes, 
with  heavy  hearts,  we  threw  them  into  the  pits,  with 
very  little  regard  to  order,  and  covered  them  over 
with  earth. 

u Poor  brothers,  farewell ! the  storm  of  your  last 
battle  has  long  ago  ceased  on  the  field,  and  no  trace 
now  remains  on  earth  that  you  ever  lived.  The 
worms  have  devoured  your  flesh  ; and  the  mounas 
raised  over  your  dust,  are  sunk  back  to  the  common 
level  with  the  plain.  But  ah  ! could  your  mournful 
story  be  read,  the  youth  of  America  would  listen  to 
the  last  words  of  W ashingten,  and  4 study  the  art  of 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


71 


war,’  that  their  countrymen  might  no  more  be  mur- 
dered by  military  quacks. 

As  a hint  to  American  officers,  I think  it  my  duty 
to  state  the  following  fact : — Our  fatal  attack  on  Sa- 
vannah was  made  very  early  in  the  morning.  A few 
hours  previous  thereto,  a council  of  war  was  held ; 
and  while  it  was  deliberating,  a deserter  and  spy  had 
the  address  to  bear  a musket,  as  sentinel  at  the  door 
of  the  marquee  l ! On  hearing  where  the  attack  was 
to  be  made,  he  ran  off  in  the  dark,  and  gave  such  in- 
telligence to  the  enemy,  as  enabled  them  very  com- 
pletely to  defeat  us.  The  fellow  was  afterwards 
taken  at  the  battle  of  Hobkirk  Hill,  near  Camden, 
and  hung. 

Scarcely  had  we  finished  burying  the  dead,  before 
the  count  D’Estang  hurried  on  board  his  ships  with 
his  troops  and  artillery,  while  we,  passing  on  in  si- 
lence by  the  way  of  Zubley’s  ferry,  returned  to  Caro- 
lina, and  pitched  our  tents  at  Sheldon,  the  country 
seat  of  general  Bull. 

The  theatre  of  war  being,  from  this  period,  and 
for  some  time  at  least,  removed  to  the  northern 
states,  the  governor  and  council  were  pleased  to  re- 
duce the  regiments,  and  dismiss  the  supernumerary 
officers.  To  some  of  my  brethren  in  arms,  this  was 
matter  of  serious  alarm.  But  for  myself,  possessing, 
thank  God,  a liberal  fortune  in  the  country,  and  feel- 
ing no  attraction  to  the  camp,  except  when  drawn 
thither  by  public  danger,  I was  quite  happy  to  hear 
of  this  new  arrangement,  and  waited  on  his  excel- 
lency to  return  my  commission. 

Perhaps  some  may  say  it  was  pride  in  me,  and 
that  I did  not  like  the  idea  of  being  unfrocked . Why, 
as  to  that  matter,  it  is  not  for  me  to  boast  of  my 
standing  among  my  superiors  in  those  days.  But 
this  I must  needs  say,  that  it  is  joy  enough,  and 
glory  enough  too,  for  me  to  know,  that  I was  always 
the  favourite  of  the  great  Marion ; and  that  he  sel- 


THE  LIFE  OF 


U 

Some  of  them  had  Dr.  Madan’s  famous  book  call- 
ed “ Thylipthora,  or  a Defence  of  Polygamy,”  with 
which  they  were  prodigiously  taken,  and  talked  very 
freely  of  reducing  the  system  to  practice.  Cornwal- 
lis, it  seems,  was  to  be  a bashaw  of  three  tails — Raw- 
don  and  Tarleton,  of  two  each — and  as  a natural  ap- 
pendage of  such  high  rank,  they  were  to  have  their 
seraglios  and  harams  filled  with  the  greatest  beauties 
of  the  country. 

u Huzza,  my  brave  fellows  !” — they  would  say  to 
each  other ; “ one  more  campaign  and  the  hash  will  be 
settled  with  the  d — d rebels,  and  then  stand  by  the 
girls! — stand  by  the  Miss  Pinckneys  ! and  Elliots  ! 
and  Rutledges  ! and  all  your  bright-eyed,  soft  bosom- 
ed, lovely  dames,  look-  sharp  ! Egad  ! your  charms 
shall  reward  our  valour  ! like  the  grand  Turk,  we’ll 
have  regiments  of  our  own  raising!  Charleston  shall 
be  our  Constantinople!  and  our  Circassia,  this  sweet 
Carolina  famed  for  beauties  ! Prepare  the  baths,  the 
perfumes,  and  spices  ! bring  forth  the  violins  and  the 
rose  buds  ! and  tap  the  old  Madeira,  that  our  souls 
may  all  be  joy  !” 

’Twas  in  this  way  they  would  rant ; and  then, 
brightened  up  to  the  pitch,  they  would  look  and  grin 
on  each  other  as  swreetly  as  young  foxes,  who,  prowl- 
ing round  a farm  yard,  had  suddenly  heard  the  cack- 
ling of  the  rooster  pullets.  The  reader  shall  present- 
ly see  the  violent  and  bloody  course  of  these  ruffians, 
who  did  such  dishonour  to  the  glorious  island  they 
came  from.  But  before  I begin  my  tragedy , I beg 
leave,  by  way  of  prologue,  to  entertain  him  a moment 
with  a very  curious  farce  that  was  acted  on  a wealthy 
old  tory,  near  Monk’s  Corner,  while  colonel  Tarleton, 
with  the  British  advance,  lay  there. 

The  hero  of  the  play  was  a remarkably  stout,  red- 
haired  young  Scotsman,  named  Macdonald,  son  of  the 
Macdonald  of  famous  defeat  at  Morris  Creek  Bridge, 
if  )rth  Carolina.  Soon  after  the  defeat  of  his  father^ 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


75 


he  came  and  joined  our  troops.  Led  by  curiosity,  I 
could  not  help,  one  day,  asking  him  the  reason  : to 
which  he  made,  in  substance,  the  following  reply. 

w Immediately  on  the  misfortune  of  my  father  and 
his  friends  at  the  Great  Bridge,  I fell  to  thinking  what 
could  be  the  cause  ; and  then  it  struck  me  that  it  must 
have  been  owing  to  their  own  monstrous  ingratitude. 
u Here  now,”  said  I to  myself,  “ is  a parcel  of  people, 
meaning  my  poor  father  and  his  friends,  who  fled  from 
the  murderous  swords  of  the  English  after  the  mas- 
sacre at  Culloden.  Well,  they  came  to  America,  with 
hardly  any  thing  but  their  poverty  and  mournful  looks. 
But  among  this  friendly  people  that  was  enough. — 
Every  eye  that  saw  us,  had  pity  ; and  every  hand  wa.* 
reached  out  to  assist.  They  received  us  in  their 
houses  as  though  we  had  been  their  own  unfortunate 
brothers.  They  kindled  high  their  hospitable  fires  for 
us,  and  spread  their  feasts,  and  bid  us  eat  and  drink 
and  banish  our  sorrows,  for  that  we  were  in  a land  of 
friends.  And  so  indeed  we  found  it;  for,  whenever 
we  told  of  the  woful  battle  of  Culloden,  and  how  the 
English  gave  no  quarter  to  our  unfortunate  country- 
men, but  butchered  all  they  could  overtake,  these 
generous  people  often  gave  us  their  tears,  and  said 
u0  ! that  we  had  been  there  to  aid  with  our  rifles , the?i 
should  many  of  those  monsters  have  bit  the  ground 
They  received  us  into  the  bosoms  of  their  peaceful 
forests,  and  gave  us  their  lands  and  their  beauteous 
daughters  in  marriage,  and  we  became  rich.  And  yet, 
after  all,  soon  as  the  English  came  to  America,  to 
murder  this  innocent  people,  merely  for  refusing  to 
be  their  slaves,  then  my  father  and  friends,  forgetting 
all  that  the  Americans  had  done  for  them,  went  and 
joined  the  British,  to  assist  them  to  cut  the  throats  of 
their  best  friends  ! 

“ Nowf  said  I to  myself,  u if  ever  there  was  a time 
for  God  to  stand  up  to  punish  ingratitude , this  was 
the  timeP  And  God  did  stand  up : for  he  enabled  the 


76 


THE  LIFE  OF 


Americans  to  defeat  my  father  and  his  friends  most 
completely.  But,  instead  of  murdering  the  prison- 
ers, as  the  English  had  done  at  Culloden,  they  treat- 
ed us  with  their  usual  generosity.  And  now  these  are, 
44  the  people  I love  and  will  fight  for  as  long  as  I live.” 
And  so  he  did  fight  for  us,  and  as  undauntedly  too  as 
George  Washington  ever  did. 

This  was  young  Scotch  Macdonald.  Now  the  cu- 
rious trick  which  he  played,  is  as  follows. 

Soon  as  he  heard  that  colonel  Tarleton  was  en- 
camped at  Monk’s  Corner,  he  went  the  next  morning 
to  a wealthy  old  tory  of  that  neighbourhood,  and 
passing  himself  for  a sergeant  of  colonel  Tarleton’s 
corps,  presented  that  officer’s  compliments,  adding 
that  colonel  Tarleton  was  just  come  to  drive  the  re- 
bels out  of  the  country,  and  knowing  him  to  be  a 
good  friend  of  the  king,  begged  he  would  send  him 
one  of  his  best  horses  for  a charger,  and  that  he 
should  be  no  loser  by  it. 

44  Send  him  one  of  my  finest  horses  !”  cried  the  old 
traitor,  with  eyes  sparkling  with  joy;  44  Yes,  Mr.  Ser- 
geant, that  I will,  by  gad ! and  would  send  him  one  of 
my  finest  daughters  too,  had  he  but  said  the  word. 
A good  friend  of  the  king,  did  he  call  me,  ?>Ir.  Ser- 
geant? yes,  God  save  his  sacred  majesty,  a good 
friend  I am  indeed,  and  a true.  And,  faith  ! I am 
glad  too,  Mr.  Sergeant,  that  colonel  knows  it.  Send 
him  a charger  to  drive  the  rebels,  heh  ? Yes,  egad  will 
I send  him  one,  and  as  proper  a one  too,  as  ever  a 
soldier  straddled.  Dick!  Dick!  I say  you  Dick!” 

44  Here,  massa,  here  ! here  Dick  !” 

44  Oh,  you  plaguy  dog  ! so  I must  always  split  my 
throat  with  bawling,  before  I can  get  you  to  answer, 
heh  ?” 

44  High,  massa  ! sure  Dick  always  answer  xvhen  he 
hear  massa  hallo  /” 

44  You  do,  you  villain,  do  you? — Well  then,  run  ! 
jump!  fly,  you  rascal,  fly  to  the  stable,  and  bring  me 


i 


l 


Pag-e  77. 


M' Donald's  trick  ori  the  old  Tory, 


GENf.  FRANCIS  MARION, 


77 


out  Selim,  my  young  Selim  ! do  you  hear  ? you  vil- 
lain, do  you  hear  ?” 

w Yes,  massa , swr?  /” 

Then  turning  to  Macdonald,  he  went  on : w Wefl, 
Mr.  Sergeant,  you  have  made  me  confounded  glad 
this  morning,  you  may  depend.  And  now  suppose 
you  take  a glass  of  peach  ; of  good  old  peach,  Mr. 
Sergeant  ? do  you  think  it  would  do  you  any  harm  ?” 

u Why,  they  say  it  is  good  of  a rainy  morning, 
sir,”  replied  Macdonald. 

“ O yes,  famous  of  a rainy  morning,  Mr.  Sergeant ! 
a mighty  antifogmatic.  It  prevents  you  the  ague, 
Mr.  Sergeant ; it  clears  a man’s  throat  of  the  cob- 
webs, sir.” 

“ God  bless  your  honour  !”  said  Macdonald,  as  he 
turned  off  a bumper  of  the  high-beaded  cordial. 

But  scarcely  had  he  smacked  his  lips,  before  Dick 
paraded  Selim  ; a proud,  full-blooded,  stately  steed, 
that  stepped  as  though  he  disdained  the  earth  he 
walked  upon. 

Here  the  old  fellow  brightening  up,  broke  out 
again  : u Aye  ! there,  Mr.  Sergeant,  there  is  a horse 
for  you  ! is’nt  he,  my  boy  ?” 

“ Faith,  a noble  animal,  sir,”  replied  Macdonald. 

“ Yes,  egad!  a noble  animal  indeed! — a charger 
for  a king,  Mr.  Sergeant ! — Well,  my  compliments  to 
colonel  Tarleton  : tell  him  I’ve  sent  him  a horse,  my 
youg  Selim,  my  grand  Turk,  do  you  hear,  my  son 
of  thunder  ? And  say  to  the  colonel  that  I don’t 
grudge  him  neither,  for  egad ! he’s  too  noble  for  me, 
Mr.  Sergeant.  I’ve  no  work  that’s  fit  for  him,  sir ; 
no  ! damme,  sir,  if  there’s  any  work  in  all  this  coun- 
try that’s  good  enough  for  him,  but  just  that  which 
he  is  now  going  on;  the  driving  the  d — d rebels  out 
cf  the  land.” 

And  in  order  to  send  Selim  off  in  high  style,  he 
ordered  Dick  to  bring  down  his  elegant  new  saddle 
and  holsters,  with  his  silver-mounted  pistols.  Then 
G 2 


7 8 


THE  LIFE  OF 


giving  Macdonald  a hot  breakfast,  and  lending  him 
his  great  coat,  as  it  was  raining,  he  let  him  go,  with 
a promise  that  he  would  come  next  morning  and  see 
colonel  Tarleton  liked  young  Selim. 
Accordingly  next  morning  he  waited  on  colonel 
Tarleton,  and  told  his  name,  with  the  smiling  coun- 
tenance of  one  who  expected  to  be  eaten  uj>  with 
fondness.  But  alas!  to  his  infinite  mortification, 
Tarleton  heard  his  name  without  the  least  change  of 
feature. 

After  recovering  a little  from  his  embarrassment, 
he  asked  colonel  Tarleton  how  he  liked  his  charger . 
“ Charger,  sir!”  replied  Tarleton. 

“ Yes,  sir,  the  elegant  horse  I sent  you  yesterday.” 
u The  elegant  horse  you  sent  me,  sir !” 

“ Yes,  sir,  and  by  your  sergeant,  sir,  as  he  called 
himself.” 

w An  elegant  horse-!  and  by  my  sergeant ! Why 
really,  sir,  I-I-I  don’t  understand  all  this  !” 

The  looks  and  voice  of  colonel  Tarleton  too  sadly 
convinced  the  old  traitor  that  he  had  been  bit ; and 
that  young  Selim  was  gone  ! then  trembling  and  pale, 
cried  out,  “ Why,  my  dear  good  sir,  did  you  not  send 
a sergeant  yesterday  with  your  compliments  to  me, 
and  a request  that  I would  send  you  my  very  best 
horse  for  a charger,  which  I did  ?” 

“ No,  sir,  never  !”  replied  Tarleton  : “ I never  sent 
a sergeant  on  any  such  errand.  Nor  till  this  moment 
did  I ever  know  that  there  existed  on  earth  such  a 
being  as  you.” 

To  have  been  outwitted  in  this  manner  by  a rebel 
sergeant — to  have  lost  his  peach  brandy — his  hot 
breaktast — his  great  coat — his  new  saddle — his  silver 
mounted  pistols — and,  worse  than  all,  his  darling 
horse , his  young,  full-blooded,  bounding  Selim — all 
these  keen  reflections,  like  so  many  forked  lightnings, 
falling  at  once  on  the  train  and  tinder  of  his  passions, 
blew  them  up  to  such  a diabolical  rage  that  the  old  sin- 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


79 


ner  had  like  to  have  been  suffocated  on  the  spot.  He 
turned  black  in  the  face  ; he  shook  throughout ; and 
as  soon  as  lie  could  recover  breath  and  power  of 
speech,  he  broke  out  into  a torrent  of  curses,  enough 
to  raise  the  hair  on  any  Christian  man’s  head. 

Nor  was  colonel  Tarleton  much  behind  him,  when 
he  came  to  learn  what  a noble  horse  had  slipped 
through  his  hands.  And  a noble  horse  he  was  in- 
deed ! Full  sixteen  hands  high  ; the  eye  of  a hawk  ; 
the  spirit  of  the  king  eagle ; a chest  like  a lion  ; swifter 
than  a roebuck,  and  strong  as  a buffalo. 

I asked  Macdonald,  how  he  could  reconcile  it  to 
himself  to  take  the  old  poltroon’s  horse  in  that  way  ? 

“ Why,  sir,”  replied  he,  “ as  to  that  matter,  people 
will  think  differently;  but  for  my  part  I hold  that  all 
is  fair  in  war : and,  besides,  sir,  if  I had  not  taken 
him,  colonel  Tarleton,  no  doubt,  would  have  got 
him.  And  then,  with  such  a swift  strong  charger  as 
this,  he  might  do  us  as  much  harm  as  I hope  to  do  to 
them.”  41 

And  he  did  do  them  harm  with  a vengeance ; for 
he  had  no  more  sense  of  fear  than  a hungry  tiger. 
And,  as  to  his  strength,  it  was  such,  that  with  one  of 
Potter’s  blades  he  would  make  no  more  to  drive 
through  cap  and  skull  of  a British  dragoon,  than  a 
boy  would,  with  a case-knife,  to  chip  off  the  head  of 
a carrot.  And  then,  he  always  kept  Selim  up  so  lust- 
ily to  the  top  of  his  metal.  He  was  so  fond  of  him, 
that  I verily  believe  he  would  at  any  time  have  sold 
the  shirt  off  his  back  to  get  corn  for  him.  And  truly 
Selim  was  not  much  his  debtor;  for, at  the  first  flash 
and  glimpse  of  a red  coat , he  would  paw  and  champ 
his  iron  bit  with  rage ; and  the  moment  he  heard  the 
word  u gof  off  he  yras  among  them  like  a thunder - 
bolt . 

And  to  see  how  Macdonald  would  charge , yen 
would  swear  the  fear  of  death  was  never  before  his 
eyes.  Whether  it  was  one  or  ten  against  him,  it  made 


80 


THE  LIFE  OF 


no  odds  to  this  gallant  Scotsman.  He  never  stopped 
to  count  noses,  but  would  dash  in  upon  the  thickest 
of  them,  and  fall  to  hewing  and  cutting  down  like  a 
very  fury  incarnate. 

Poor  Macdonald ! the  arm  of  his  strength  is  now 
in  dust ; and  his  large  red  cheeks  have,  long  ago, 
been  food  for  worms  : but  never  shall  I forget  when 
first  I saw  him  fight.  ’Twas  in  the  days  when  the 
British  held  Georgetown;  and  Marion  had  said  to 
me,  u Go  and  reconnoitre.”  I took  only  Macdonald 
with  me.  Before  day  we  reached  our  place  of  con- 
cealment, a thick  clump  of  pines  near  the  road,  and 
in  full  view  of  the  enemy’s  lines.  Soon  as  the  bonny 
gray-eyed  morning  began  to  peep,  we  heard  the  town 
all  alive,  as  it  were,  with  drums  and  fifes ; and  about 
sunrise,  beheld  five  dragoons  turn  out,  and  with 
prancing  steeds  dash  up  the  road  towards  us.  I turned 
my  eye  on  Macdonald,  and  saw  his  face  all  kindled  up 
with  the  joy  of  battle.  It  was  like  that  terrible  joy 
which  flashes  from  the  eyes*i>f  an  ambushed  lion,  when 
he  beholds  the  coming  forth  of  the  buffaloes  towards 
his  gloomy  cave.  a Zounds,  Macdonald,”  said  I, 
u here’s  an  odds  against  us,  five  to  two.”  u By  my  soul 
now  captain,”  he  replied,  u and  let  ’em  come  on. 
Three  are  welcome  to  the  sword  of  Macdonald.” 

Soon  as  they  were  come  fairly  opposite  to  us,  we 
gave  them  a blast  from  our  bugles,  and  with  drawn 
sabres  broke  in  upon  them  like  a tornado. 

Their  panic  was  complete ; two  we  stopped,  over- 
thrown and  weltering  in  the  toad.  The  remaining 
three  wheeled  about,  and  taking  to  their  heels,  went 
off  as  if  old  Nick  had  been  bringing  up  the  rear.  Then 
you  might  have  heard  the  roar,  and  seen  the  dust, 
which  dragoons  can  raise,  when,  with  whip  and  spur, 
and  wildly  rolling  eyes,  they  bend  forward  from  the 
pursuit  of  death.  My  charger  being  but  a heavy 
brute,  was  spon  distanced.  But  they  could  not  dis- 
tance the  swift-footed  Selim.  Rapid  as  the  deadly 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


81 


blasistfi  the  desert,  he  pursued  their  dusty  course,  still 
gathering  upon  them  at  every  jump.  And  before  they 
could  read  the  town,  though  so  near,  he  brought  his 
furious  rider  alongside  of  two  of  them,  whom  he  cut 
down.  One  hundred  yards  further,  and  the  third  also 
would  have  been  slain ; for  Macdonald,  with  his 
crimson  claymore,  was  within  a few  steps  of  him, 
when  the  guns  of  the  fort  compelled  him  to  retire. 
However,  though  quickly  pursued  by  the  enemy,  he 
had  the  address  to  bring  off  an  elegant  horse  of  one 
of  the  dragoons  whom  he  had  killed. 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  abomination  and  desolation  set  up  in  South  Caro- 
lina— the  author , zvith  sorrowful  heart , quits  his 
native  land , and  flies  to  the  north  in  quest  of  war- 
like friends — fortunate  Htncontre  with  his  gallant 
friend  colonel  Marion — curious  adventures . 

AFTER  the  capture  of  Charleston,  with  all  our 
troops,  the  British,  as  aforesaid,  began  to  spread  them- 
selves over  the  country.  Then  was  exhibited  a spec- 
tacle, which  for  sadness  and  alarm,  ought  never  to  be 
forgotten  by  the  people  of  America.  I mean  how  easy 
a thing  it  is  for  a small  body  of  soldiers  to  overrun  a 
populous  and  powerful  country.  The  British  did  not, 
after  Sir  Henry  Clinton’s  return  to  New  York,  exceed 
three  thousand  men;  and  South  Carolina  alone,  at  the 
lowest  computation,  must  have  contained  fifty  thou- 
sand ! and  yet  this  host  of  poor  honest  men  were  made 
to  tremble  before  that  handful  of  ruffians,  as  a flock  of 
sheep  before  the  wolf,  or  a houseful  of  little  children 
before  a dark  frowning  pedagogue.  The  reason  is 
immensely  plain.  The  British  were  all  embodied  and 
firm  as  a rock  of  granite  ; the  Carolinians  were  scat- 


82 


THE  LIFE  OF 


tered  over  the  country  loose  as  a rope  of  saner  .*  the 
British  all  well  armed  and  disciplined,  moved  in 
dreadful  harmony,  giving  their  fire  like  a volcano : 
the  Carolinians,  with  no  other  than  birding  pieces, 
and  strangers  to  the  art  of  war,  were  comparatively 
feeble  as  a forest  of  glow-worms  : the  British,  though 
but  units  in  number,  were  so  artfully  arranged  that 
they  told  for  myriads  ; while,  for  lack  of  unity,  the 
Carolinians,  though  numerous  as  myriads,  passed 
only  for  ciphers.  In  short,  the  British  were  a handful 
of  hawks ; the  poor  Carolinians  a swarm  of  rice-birds, 
and  rather  than  be  plucked  to  the  pin  feather,  or  pick- 
ed to  the  bone,  they  and  their  little  ones,  they  were 
fain  to  flatter  those  furious  falcons,  and  oft  times  to 
chirp  and  sing  when  they  were  much  in  the  humour 
to  hate  and  curse. 

Oh  ! blind  indeed,  and  doubly  blind  is  that  people, 
and  well  worthy  of  iron  yokes,  who,  enjoying  all  the 
sweets  u*~  liberty,  in  a land  of  milk  and  honey,  can 
expose  to  foreign  Philistiijgs,  that  blessed  Canaan,  un- 
guarded by  military  science.  Surely  those  who  thus 
throw  a their  pearl  before  swine*”  richly  deserve  that 
the  beast  should  turn  again  and  trample  them , and 
their  treasures  too , into  the  mire.  Yes,  and  had  it  not 
been  fora  better  xvatch  than  our  own,  at  this  day,  like 
the  wretched  Irish,  we  should  have  been  trampled 
into  the  mire  of  slavery;  groaning  under  heavy  bur- 
dens to  enrich  our  task-masters  ; and  doomed  on 
every  fruitless  attempt  at  freedom,  to  fatten  the 
buzzards  with  our  gibbeted  carcasses. 

For  lack  of  this  habitual  military  preparation  on 
our  part,  in  a few  days  after  the  fall  of  Charleston, 
Col.  Tarleton,  with  only  one  hundred  and  fifty  horse, 
galloped  up  to  Georgetown,  through  the  most  popu- 
lous part  of  the  state,  with  as  much  hauteur  as  an 
overseer  and  his  boys  wovld  gallop  through  a negro 
plantation  ! To  me  this  was  the  signal  for  clearing  out . 
Accordingly,  though  still  in  much  pain  from  the  rheu- 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


83 


matism,  I mounted  my  korse,  and  with  sword  and 
pistol  by  my  side,  set  out  for  tY**  northward,  in  quest 
of  friendly  powers  to  aid  our  fallen  cause.  In  passing 
through  Georgetown,  I saw  a distant  group  of  peo- 
ple, to  whom  I rode  up,  and  with  great  civility , as  I 
thought,  asked  the  news . To  which  a young  fellow 
very  scornfully  replied,  that  “ Colonel  Tarleton  was 
coming,  and  that  the  country,  thank  God,  would  soon 
be  cleared  of  the  continental  colonels.” 

I was  within  an  ace  of  drawing  a pistol  and  shoot- 
ing the  young  slave  dead  upon  the  spot.  But  God  was 
pleased  to  give  me  patience  to  bear  up  under  that  hea- 
vy cross;  for  which  I have  since  very  heartily  thank- 
ed him  a thousand  times  and  more.  And  indeed,  on 
thinking  over  the  matter,  it  has  often  struck  me,  that 
the  man  who  could  speak  in  that  way  to  one  who  had 
on,  as  he  saw,  the  American  uniform,  must  be  a sa- 
vage, and  therefore  not  an  object  of  anger,  but  of  pity. 
But  though  my  anger  was  soon  over,  nothing  could 
cure  the  melancholy  into  j^hich  this  affair  threw  me. 
To  see  my  native  country  thus  prostrate  under  fo- 
reign usurpers,  the  generality  quite  disheartened,  and 
the  few,  who  dared  to  take  her  part,  thus  publicly  in- 
sulted, was  a shock  I was  not  prepared  for,  and  which, 
therefore,  sunk  my  spirits  to  the  lowest  ebb  of  despon- 
dence. Such  was  the  frame  of  mind  wherein  I left 
my  native  state,  and  set  out,  sick  and  alone,  for  the 
northward,  with  scarce  a hope  of  ever  seeing  better 
days.  About  the  middle  of  the  second  day,  as  I beat 
my  solitary  road,  slowly  winding  through  the  silent, 
gloomy  woods  of  North  Carolina,  I discovered,  just 
before  me,  a stranger  and  his  servant.  Instantly  my 
heart  sprang  afresh  for  the  pleasures  of  society,  and 
quickening  my  pace,  I soon  overtook  the  gentleman: 
when  lo ! who  should  it  be  but  the  man  first  of  all  in 
my  wishes,  though  the  last  in  my  expectations  ; who, 
I say,  should  it  be  but  Marion  ! Our  mutual  surprise 
was  great.  u Good  heavens !”  we  both  exclaimed  in 


84 


THE  LIFE  OF 


the  same  moment,  “ Is  th^  colonel  Marion  ?”  w Is 
that  Horry  ?”  After  the  first  transports  of  that  joy, 
which  those  who  have  been  long  absent  from  deal 
friend s,  ean  better  conceive  than  I describe,  we  be- 
gan to  inquire  into  each  other’s  destinations,  which 
was  found  to  be  the  same  ; both  flying  to  the  north 
for  troops  to  fight  the  British.  We  had  not  rode  far 
when  Marion,  after  looking  up  to  the  sun,  who  was 
now  past  his  half-way  house,  came  suddenly  to  a halt, 
and  said,  “ Well,  come  Horry,  I feel  both  peckish 
and  weary,  and  here  is  a fine  shade,  so  let  us  go  down 
and  rest,  and  refresh  ourselves  awhile.” 

Whereupon  I dismounted ; and  with  the  help  of  his 
servant,  for  his  ankle  was  yet  very  crazy,  got  him  down 
too.  Then,  sitting  side  by  side,  on  the  trunk  of  a 
fallen  pine,  we  talked  over  the  mournful  state  of  our 
country ; and  came  at  last,  as  we  had  always  done,  to 
this  solemn  conclusion,  that  we  would  stand  by  her 
like  true  children,  and  either  conquer  or  die  with  her. 

After  this,  a piece  of  dri^d  beef  was  paraded,  from 
Marion’s  saddle-bags,  with  a loaf  of  Indian  bread  and 
a bottle  of  brandy.  The  wealthy  reader  may  smile  at 
this  bill  of  fare  ; but  to  me  it  was  a feast  indeed.  For 
joy,  like  a cordial,  had  so  raised  my  spirits,  and  re- 
invigorated  my  system,  that  I fed  like  a thresher. 

I shall  never  forget  an  expression  which  Marion 
let  fall  during  our  repast,  and  which,  as  things  have 
turned  out,  clearly  shows  what  an  intimate  acquaint- 
ance he  had  with  human  nature.  I happened  to  say 
that  I was  afraid  “ our  happy  days  were  all  gone.” 
u Pshaw,  Horry,”  he  replied,  u don’t  give  way  to 
such  idle  fears.  Our  happy  days  are  not  all  gone.  On 
the  contrary,  the  victory  is  still  sure.  The  enemy,  it 
is  true,  have  all  the  trumps  in  their  hands,  and  if 
they  had  but  spirit  to  play  a generous  game , would 
certainly  ruin  us.  But  they  have  no  idea  of  that 
game  ; but  will  treat  the  people  cruelly.  And  that 
me  thing  will  ruin  them,  and  save  America.” 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


85 


u I pray  Goa,”  said  I,  “it  may  be  so.” 

u Well,  don’t  be  afraid,”  replied  he,  u you  will  as- 
suredly see  it” 

Having  despatched  our  simple  dinner,  we  mounted 
again  and  pursued  our  journey,  but  with  feelings  so 
different  from  what  I had  before  this  meeting,  as  made 
me  more  sensible  than  ever  what  adivine  thing  fiiend 
ship  is.  And  well  indeed  it  was  for  us  that  our  hearts 
were  so  rich  in  friendship , for  our  pockets  were  as 
bare  of  gold  and  silver  as  if  there  were  no  such  metals 
on  earth.  And  but  for  carrying  a knife,  or  a horse- 
fleam,  or  a gun-flint,  we  had  no  more  use  for  a pocket 
than  a Highlander  has  for  a knee-buckle.  As.to  hard 
money,  we  had  not  seen  a dollar  for  years ; and  of  old 
continental,  bad  as  it  was,  we  had  received  but  little, 
and  that  little  was  gone  away  like  a flash  ; as  the  rea- 
der may  well  suppose,  when  he  comes  to  learn,  that 
a bottle  of  rum  would  sweep  fifty  dollars. 

And  so  here  were  two  continental  colonels  of  u«, 
just  started  on  a journey  of  several  hundred  miles, 
without  a cent  in  pocket ! Rut  though  poor  in  gold, 
we  were  rich  in  faith.  Burning  patriots  ourselves,  we 
had  counted  on  it  as  a certainty,  that  every  body  we 
met,  out  of  reach  of  the  British,  were  as  fiery  as  we, 
and  that  the  first  sight  of  our  uniforms  would  com- 
mand smiling  countenances,  and  hot  suppers,  and 
downy  beds,  and  mint  slings ; and  in  short,  every  thing 
that  our  hearts  could  wish.  But,  alas  and  alack  the 
mistake ! For  instead  of  being  smiled  on  every  where 
along  the  road  as  the  champions  of  liberty,  we  were 
often  grinned  at  as  if  we  had  been  horse  thieves.  In 
place  of  being  hailed  with  benedictions,  we  were  fre- 
quently in  danger  from  the  brick  bats ; and  in  lieu  of 
hot  dinners  and  suppers,  we  were  actually  on  the  point 
of  starving,  both  we  and  our  horses  ! For  in  conse- 
quence of  candidly  telling  the  publicans  that  “ we  had 
nothing  to  payf  they  as  candidly  declared,  “th&rhad 
nothing  to  give;”  and  that  “ those  that  had  no  money 
H 


m 


THE  LIFE  OF 


had  no  business  to  travel”  At  length  we  came  to  the 
resolution  to  say  nothing  about  our  poverty , but,  after 
getting  such  things  as  we  wanted,  to  give  our  due  bills. 
In  this  we  felt  ourselves  perfectly  warranted  ; for  we 
had,  both  of  us,  thank  God,  very  sufficient  estates; 
and  besides,  turning  out,  as  we  did,  to  fight  for  our 
country,  we  thought  we  had,  even  by  sacred  precept, 
a very  fair  claim  on  that  country  for  a little  food. 

I remember,  one  evening,  after  dark,  we  reached  a 
tavern,  the  owner  of  which  at  first  seemed  very  for^b 
of  accommodating  us.  But  as  soon  as  a lighted  wood 
torch  had  given  him  a glimpse  of  our  regimentals, 
the  rogue  began  to  hem  and  ha,  to  tell  us  of  a mighty 
fine  tavern  about  five  miles  further  on. 

W e begged  him  to  recoTlect  that  it  was  night,  and 
also  very  rainy,  and  as  dark  as  pitch. 

“ Oh  l”  quoth  he,  “ the  road  is  mighty  plain  ; you 
ranyt  miss  your  way ” 

u But  consider,  sir,  we  are  strangers.” 

“ Oh ! I never  liked  strangers  in  all  my  life” 
u But,  sir,  we  are  your  countrymen,  American  offi- 
cers, going  to  the  north  for  men  to  fight  your  battles.” 
“ Oh  ! I wants  nobody  to  fight  my  battles  ; king 
George  is  good  enough  for  me.” 

“ But,  sir,  we  have  travelled  all  day  long  without 
a mouthiul  for  ourselves  or  horses.” 

To  this  also  the  brute  was  preparing  some  fit  an- 
swer, when  his  wife,  who  appeared  to  be  a very  gen- 
teel woman,  with  a couple  of  charming  girls,  her 
daughters,  ran  out  and  declared  that  “ take  us  in  he 
could,  and  should,  that  he  should ; and  that  he  might  as 
well  consent  at  first,  for  they  would  not  be  said  nay.” 
Even  against  all  this,  he  stood  out  for  some  time; 
till  at  length  his  wife  reminded  him,  that  though  the 
British  were  carrying  every  thing  before  them  in 
South  Carolina,  yet  that  Washington  was  still  in  the 
field,  and  the  issue  ^of  the  war  unknown  ; and  that  at 
any  rate  it  was  good  to  have  a friend  at  court. 


Page  8(j. 


The  Author  and  Marion  expostulating  with  the 
Innkeeper , 


LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


87 


On  this  he  came  to  a pause  ; and  at  length  reluc 
tantly  drawled  out,  u Well — I suppose — you  must- 
come — in.” 

I have  related  this  story,  partly  to  show  what  a sa- 
vage man  would  be  without  that  softening,  polishing 
friend,  a good  wife. 

Observing  that  we  we're  wet  and  cold,  this  amiable 
woman  and  her  daughters  soon  had  kindled  up  for  us  a 
fine  sparkling  fire,  to  which  their  own  sweetly  smiling 
looks  gave  tenfold  cheerfulness  and  comfort.  And 
while  the  husband  went  poking  about  the  house,  si- 
lent and  surly  as  an  ill-natured  slave,  the  ladies  dis- 
played towards  us  the  most  endearing  attentions.  The 
mother  brought  out  from  her  closet  a bottle  of  nice 
family  cordial,  to  warm  and  cheer  us ; while  the  girls 
presented  basins  of  water  and  towels,  that  we  might 
wash  and  refresh  ourselves  after  our  fatigue.  And 
all  these  seasonable  hospitalities  they  did,  not  with 
that  ungracious  silence  and  reserve,  which  so  often 
depress  the  traveller’s  spirits,  but  with  the  charming 
alacrity  of  daughters  or  sisters,  so  sweetening  every 
thing  with  smiles  and  sprightly  chat  as  almost  made 
us  feel  ourselves  at  home. 

As  with  deep  struck  thought,  I compared  our  pre- 
sent happy  condition  with  that  a few  minutes  before, 
benighted , xvet  and  xveury,  I could  not  help  exclaim- 
ing, “ O my  God  ! what  pity  it  is  that  among  so  many 
labours  which  poor  mortals  take  under  the  sun,  they 
do  not  labour  more  for  that  which  alone  deserves  their 
care.  I mean  that  love , which  at  once  diffuses  and 
enjoys  all  the  happiness  both  of  earth  and  heaven.” 

At  supper,  the  poor  creature  of  a husband  strove 
very  hard  to  draw  Marion  into  a dispute,  about  what 
he  was  pleased  to  call  our  “ rebellion.”  I expect- 
ed to  have  heard  him  lashed  very  severely  for  such 
brutality;  for  few  men  ever  excelled  Marion  in  the 
retort  abrupt, . But  every  time  the  subject  was  intro- 
duced, he  contrived  very  handsomely  to  waive  it,  by 


88 


THE  LIFE  OF 


some  pretty  turn  to  the  ladies,  which  happily  relieved 
their  terrors,  and  gave  a fresh  spring  to  general  and 
sprightly  conversation. 

As  our  excellent  hostess  and  her  fair  daughters 
were  about  to  retire,  we  bade  them  good  night , and 
also  adieu , telling  them  that  we  meant  to  ride  very 
early  in  the  morning.  To  this  they  stoutly  objected  ; 
urging  that,  from,  our  fatigue  and  fasting,  we  dught  to 
pass  a day  or  two  with  them,  and  refresh  ourselves, 
out  if  we  could  not  do  this,  vve  must  at  any  rate  stay 
and  give  them  the  pleasure  of  our  company  at  break- 
fast. 

When  we  retired  to  our  chamber,  I asked  Marion 
why  he  had  not  given  that  brute,  our  landlord,  a 
proper  set  down, 

u I am  surprised  at  you,  Horry,”  he  replied  ; “when 
you  see  that  your  fellow  man  is  wretched,  can't  you 
give  him  quarter  ? You  must  have  observed,  ever 
since  we  darkened  his  door,  that  with  spleen  and  tory- 
ism,  this  poor  gentleman  is  in  the  condition  of  him  in 
the  parable , who  was  possessed  of  seven  devils . Since 
we  have  not  the  power  to  cast  them  out , let  us  not 
torment  him  before  his  time . Besides,  this  excellent 
woman  his  xvife;  these  charming  girls  his  daughters. 
They  love  him,  no  doubt,  and  therefore,  to  us,  at 
least,  he  ought  to  be  sacred,  because  surrounded  by 
their  affections.” 

The  next  morning  while  breakfast  was  preparing, 
the  churl  renewed  his  hostilities,  by  telling  us,  with 
a malignant  pleasure  in  his  face,  that  he  and  his 
neighbours  were  making  ready  to  go  to  South  Caro- 
lina for  negroes. 

“ For  negroes  !”  replied  Marion;  upray  sir,  what 
do  you  mean  by  that.” 

u Why,  sir,”  returned  he,  u South  Carolina  is  now 
all  one  as  conquered  by  the  British,  and  why  may  wc 
not  go  and  pick  up  what  negroes  we  can  l They 
would  help  me  in  my  corn-field  vonder.” 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


89 


Marion  asked  him  whether,  if  he  were  to  find  his 
negroes,  he  would  think  it  right  to  take  them  ? 

44  To  be  sure  I would,”  answered  he.  44  You  great 
men  who  choose  to  fight  against  your  king,  are  all 
now  running  away.  And  why  may  I not  go  and  catch 
your  negroes  as  well  as  any  body  else  ?” 

44  My  God  !”  replied  Marion,  with  a deep  sigh, 
* what  will  this  world  come  to  ?”  and  turned  the  con- 
versation. 

Soon  as  breakfast  was  over,  we  took  leave  of  this 
most  unequally  yoked  couple  and  their  lovely  daugh- 
ters, and  continued  our  journey.  We  had  not  got  far 
from  the  house  when  Marion’s  servant  rode  up,  and, 
with  a very  smirking  face,  told  his  master  that  he  be- 
lieved the  gentlewoman  where  we  stayed  last  night, 
must  be  a monstrous  fine  lady  / Marion  asked  him 
why  he  thought  so.  u Why,  sir,”  replied  he,  44  she 
not  only  made  me  almost  burst  myself  with  eating 
and  drinking,  and  all  of  the  very  best,  but  she  has 
gone  and  filled  my  portmanteau  too,  filled  it  up  chock 
full,  sir ! A fine  ham  of  bacon,  sir,  and  a pair  of 
roasted  fowls,  with  two  bottles  of  brandy,  and  a mat- 
ter of  a peck  of  biscuit.” 

44  God  bless  the  dear  lady  !”  we  both  exclaimed  at 
the  same  moment.  And  I trust  God  did  bless  her. 
For  indeed  to  us  she  was  a kind  angel,  who  not  only 
refreshed  our  bodies,  but  still  more,  feasted  our  souls* 

And  though  eight  and  twenty  long  years  have 
rolled  away  since  that  time,  I can  still  see  that  angel 
smile  which  brightened  on  her  face  towards  us,  and 
the  memory  of  which  springs  a joy  in  my  heart  be- 
yond what  the  memory  of  his  money  bags  ever  gave 
to  the  miser. 

On  the  evening  of  the  same  day  that  we  left  this 
charming  family,  (I  mean  the  fairer  part  of  it)  we 
reached  the  house  of  colonel  Thatcher,  one  of  the  no- 
blest whigs  in  North  Carolina.  His  eyes  seemed  aa 
jaeagtt  they  would  never  tire  in  gazing  on  our  regi 
H 2 


90 


THE  LIFE  OF 


mentals.  We  soon  gave  him  the  history  of  our  tra- 
vels through  his  native  state,  and  of  the  very  uncivil 
manner  in  which  his  countrymen  had  treated  us.  He 
smiled,  and  bid  us  be  thankful,  for  that  it  was  en- 
tirely of  God’s  mercy  that  we  had  come  off  so  well . 
a Those  people,”  continued  he,  “ are  mere  Hotten- 
tots; a set  of  unenlightened  miserable  tories,  who 
know  nothing  of  the  grounds  of  the  war ; nothing  of 
the  rights  and  blessings  we  are  contending  for  ; nor 
of  the  corruptions  and  cruelties  of  the  British  minis- 
try; and  are  therefore  just  as  ready  to  fall  into  their 
destructive  jaws,  as  young  cat-birds  are  to  run  into 
the  mouth  cf  a rattle-snake.” 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Glorious  news — a brave  army  of  continentals  coming 
up — Marion  and  the  author  hasten  to  meet  them  at 
Roanoke — fortunately  get  introduced  to  the  baron  de 
Kalb — polite  reception  by  that  amiable  officer — curi- 
ous and  interesting  conversation . 

AFTER  spending  two  days  of  very  welcome  re- 
pose with  the  elegant  colonel  Thatcher,  we  took  leave 
and  set  out  for  lliilsborough,  where  we  met  general 
Huger  and  colonel  W.  White,  of  the  horse,  who  told 
us  the  glorious  news,  that  “ Washington  had  sent  on 
a gallant  detachment  of  continentals,  who  were  now 
in  full  march  to  aid  South  Carolina.” 

Cur  hearts  leaped  for  joy  at  the  news.  So  great 
was  our  impatience  to  see  what  our  hearts  had  so  long 
and  so  fondly  dwelt  on,  an  army  of  friends , that  we 
could  not  wrait  until  they  came  up,  but  hurried  off  in- 
stantly to  meet  them  at  Roanoke,  where  it  was  said 
they  were  crossing.  On  reaching  the  river,  we  found 
that  they  had  all  got  over,  and  had  just  formed  their 
line  of  march.  O ! how  lovely  is  the  sight  of  friends, 
in  the  day  of  our  danger!  We  have  had  many  mill- 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION 


91 


tary  corps,  but  none  had  ever  interested  us  like  this. 
In  shining  regimentals  and  glittering  arms,  they 
moved  before  the  eye  of  the  glowing  fancy  like  a host 
of  heroes. 

Thrice  happy  for  man,  that  a veil,  dark  as  the  grave, 
is  thrown  over  future  events  ! For  how  could  we, 
who  had  seen  one  fine  army  butchered  at  Savannah, 
and  another  captured  at  Charleston,  have  borne  up 
under  the  dreadful  prospect  of  having  this  gallant 
armament  also  destroyed  in  a few  days ! 

Soon  as  our  first  paroxysm  of  joy  had  a little  sub- 
sided, we  moved  toward  head  quarters , where  we 
had  the  good  fortune  to  fall  in  with  our  old  friend  Col, 
Semp,  who  appeared  overjoyed  to  see  us,  and  imme- 
diately offered  to  introduce  us  to  the  general.  His  ex- 
cellency Horatio  Gates  was  the  commander  in  chief 
but  as  he  had  not  yet  arrived,  the  command  rested  on 
that  brave  old  German  general,  the  baron  de  Kalb. 

It  was  to  this  officer  that  colonel  Semp  introduced 
us,  and,  as  was  usual  with  hkn,  in  very  flattering 
terms  ; styling  us  u continental  colonels,  and  two  of 
the  wealthiest  and  most  distinguished  patriots  of 
South  Carolina !” 

I shall  never  forget  what  I felt  when  introduced 
to  this  geirJeman.  He  appeared  to  be  rather  elderly. 
But  though  the  snow  of  winter  was  on  his  locks,  his 
cheeks  were  still  reddened  over  with  the  bloom  of 
spring.  His  person  was  large  and  manly,  above  the 
common  size,  with  great  nerve  and  activity  ; while 
his  fine  blue  eyes  expressed  the  mild  radiance  of  in- 
telligence and  goodness. 

He  received  us  very  politely,  saying  he  was  glad  to 
see  us,  “ especially  as  we  were  the  first  Carolinians  that 
he  had  seen  ; which  had  not  a little  surprised  him.” 

Observing,  I suppose,  that  we  laboured  under  ra- 
ther too  much  of  our  national  weakness,  I mean  mo- 
desty, he  kindly  redoubled  his  attentions  to  us,  and 
soon  succeeded  in  curing  us  of  our  reserve. 


92 


THE  LIFE  OF 


44 1 thought,”  said  he, 44  that  British  tyranny  would 
have  sent  great  numbers  of  the  South  Carolinians  to 
join  our  arms.  But,  so  far  from  it,  they  are  all,  as 
we  have  been  told,  running  to  take  British  protec- 
tions. Surely  they  are  not  tired  already  of  fighting 
for  liberty.” 

We  told  him  the  reason  was  very  plain  to  us,  who 
were  inhabitants  of  that  country,  and  knew  very  well 
die  state  of  things  there. 

44  Aye,”  replied  he,  44  well,  what  can  the  reason 
be?” 

44  Why,  sir,”  answered  Marion,  44  the  people  of 
Carolina  form  but  two  classes,  the  rich  and  the  poor. 
The  poor  are  generally  very  poor,  because,  not  being 
necessary  to  the  rich,  who  have  slaves  to  do  all  their 
work,  they  get  no  employment  from  them.  Being 
thus  unsupported  by  the  rich,  they  continue  poor  and 
low  spirited.  They  seldom  get  money;  and  indeed, 
what  little  they  do  get,  is  laid  out  in  brandy  to  raise 
their  spirits,  and  not  on  books  and  newspapers  to  get 
information.  Hence  they  know  nothing  of  the  com- 
parative blessings  of  their  own  country,  nor  of  the 
great  dangers  which  threaten  it,  and  therefore  care 
nothing  about  it.  As  to  the  other  class,  the  rich, 
they  are  generally  very  rich,  and  consequently  afraid 
to  stir,  unless  a fair  chance  offer,  lest  the  British 
should  burn  their  houses  and  furniture,  and  carry  off 
their  negroes  and  stock.  But  permit  me  to  assure 
you,  sir,  that  though  thus  kept  under  by  fear,  they 
still  mortally  hate  the  British,  and  will,  I am  confi- 
dent, the  moment  they  see  an  army  of  friends  at  their 
door,  fly  to  their  standard,  like  a generous  pack  to 
the  sound  of  the  horn  that  calls  them  to  the  chase  of 
a hated  wolf.11 

The  baron  de  Kalb  smiled,  and  said  he  hoped  it 
would  be  found  so. 

w No  doubt  of  it  at  all  sir,”  replied  Marion. 

The  baron  then  invited  us  to  dine  with  him,  but 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


93 


added,  smiling,  that  he  hoped  we  had  good  military 
stomachs  that  could  relish  and  digest  plain  faret 
which  was  all  he  could  promise  us,  and  perhaps 
hardly  enough  of  that. 

On  sitting  down  to  table,  we  found  that  his  predic- 
tion about  the  bill  of  fare,  was  most  unwelcomely 
true.  Our  dinner  was  just  half  a side  of  a miserably 
poor  hog,  as  miserably  cooked  ; and  in  such  small 
quantity,  that  before  we  were  done  there  was  nothing 
of  it  left  but  a rasher,  for  good  manner s'*  sake.  And 
as  to  bread,  there  was  not  even  a hoe-cake  ! It  is  true 
that,  by  way  of  substitute,  we  had  a trencher  or  two 
of  sweet  potatoes  paraded.  Our  drink  was  admirably 
suited  to  the  dinner  ; apple  brandy  with  river  water. 

God  forbid  that  I should  be  unmindful  of  his  fa- 
vours ! For  well  do  I know  that  the  least  of  them  is 
much  better  than  the  best  of  us  deserve.  On  the  con- 
trary, I mention  it  rather  as  a compliment  to  his 
heavenly  bounty,  which  is  wont  to  spread  our  tables 
with  so  many  dainties,  as  to  cause  even  roast  pigs 
and  sweet  potatoes  to  pass  for  a sorry  meal. 

Soon  as  dinner  was  over,  all  of  us  who  could  pa- 
rade a segar  or  a pipe,  began  to  comfort  our  olfacto- 
ries with  a puff,  not  forgetting  our  brandy  the  while; 
so  that  by  the  time  we  had  got  well  entrenched  in 
clouds  of  fragrant  kite-foot,  we  were  in  admirable  cue 
for  a dish  of  chat.  De  Kalb  led  the  way ; and,  as 
nearly  as  I can  recollect,  in  the  following  words. 

44  Colonel  Marion,”  said  he,  pressing  the  tobacco 
in  his  pipe  at  the  same  time,u  can  you  answer  me  one 
question  ?” 

u Most  gladly,  general,  and  a thousand  if  I can !” 
w Thank  you,  colonel,  but  one  will  do.” 

44  Be  pleased  then,  sir,  to  say  on.” 

44  Well,  colonel,  can  you  tell  me  how  old  I am 
44  That’s  a tough  question,  general.” 

44  Tough,  colonel ! pray  how  do  you  make  that  out  V* 
44  Why,  sir,  there  is  a strange  January  and  May  soi  t 


94 


THE  LIFE  OF 


of  contrast  between  your  locks  and  your  looks  that 
quite  confuses  me.  By  your  locks  you  seem  to  be  in 
the  Winter,  by  your  looks  in  the  summer  of  your  days.” 
u Well  but,  colonel,  striking  the  balance  between 
the  two,  whereabouts  do  you  take  me  to  be  ?” 

w Why,  sir,  in  the  spring  and  prime  of  life  ; about 
forty.” 

“ Good  heavens,  forty  /” 

“ Yes,  sir,  that’s  the  mark  ; there  or  thereabouts.’* 
u What ! no  more  ?” 

“ No,  sir,  not  a day  more  ; not  an  hour.” 
u Upon  honour?” 

u Yes,  sir,  upon  honour  ; upon  a soldier’s  honour.” 
“ Ha  ! — ha  ! — ha  ! — Well,  colonel,  I would  not  for 
a thousand  guineas  that  your  riflemen  shot  as  wide 
off  the  mark  as  you  guess.  The  British  would  not 
dread  them  as  they  do.  Forty  years  old,  indeed ! why 
what  will  you  say,  colonel,  when  I tell  you  that  I 
have  been  two  and  forty  years  a soldier.” 

Here  we  all  exclaimed,  “ Impossible,  general ! im- 
possible.” 

“ I ask  your  pardon,  gentlemen,”  replied  he,  u it 
is  not  at  all  impossible,  but  very  certain.  Very  cer- 
tain that  I have  been  two  and  forty.years  a soldier  in 
the  service  of  the  king  of  France  !” 

u O wonderful ! two  and  forty  years  ! Well  then, 
at  that  rate,  and  pray  how  old,  general,  may  you  take 
yourself  to  be  ?” 

w Why,  gentlemen,”  replied  he,  u man  and  boy,  I 
am  now  about  sixty-three.” 

“ Good  heaven  ! sixty-three  ! and  yet  such  bloom, 
such  flesh  and  blood  !” 

u If  you  are  so  surprised,  gentlemen,  at  my  looks 
at  sixty-three , what  would  you  have  thought  had  you 
seen  my  father  at  eighty-seven.” 

“ Your  father,  general!  he  cannot  be  alive  yet, 
sure.” 

“Alive!  yes,  thank  God,  and  alive  like  to  be,  I 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


95 


hope,  for  many  a good  year  to  come  yet.  Now,  gen- 
tlemen, let  me  tell  you  a little  story  of  my  father.  The 
very  Christmas  before  I sailed  for  America,  I went 
to  see  him.  It  was  three  hundred  milfcs,  at  least,  from 
Paris.  On  arriving  at  the  house  I found  my  dear  old 
mother  at  her  wheel,  in  her  eighty-third  year,  mind 
gentlemen  ! ! spinning  very  gaily,  while  one  of  her 
great  grandaughters  carded  the  wool  and  sung  a 
hymn  for  her.  Soon  as  the  first  transport  of  meeting 
was  over,  I eaigerly  asked  for  my  father.  c Do  not 
be  uneasy,  my  son,’  said  she,  4 your  father  is  only 
gone  to  the  woods  with  his  three  little  great  grand- 
children, to  cut  some  fuel  for  the  fire,  and  they  will 
all  be  here  presently,  I’ll  be  bound  !’  And  so  it 
proved  ; for  in  a very  short  time  I heard  them  coming 
along.  My  father  was  the  foremost,  with  his  axe  under 
his  arm,  and  a stout  billet  on  his  shoulder  ; and  the 
children,  each  with  his  little  load,  staggering  along, 
and  prattling  to  my  father  with  all  their  might.  Be 
assured,  gentlemen,  that  this  was  a most  delicious 
moment  to  me.  Thus  after  a long  absence,  to  meet  a 
beloved  father,  not  only  alive,  but  in  health  and  dear 
domestic  happiness  above  the  lot  of  kings  : also  to  see 
the  two  extremes  of  human  life,  youth  andage,  thus 
sweetly  meeting  and  mingling  in  that  cordial  love, 
which  turns  the  cottage  into  a paradise.” 

In  telling  this  little  story  of  his  aged  father  and  his 
young  relatives,  the  general’s  fine  countenance  caught 
an  animation  which  perfectly  charmed  us  all. 

The  eyes  of  Marion  sparkled  with  pleasure.  “ Ge- 
neral,” said  he,  u the  picture  which  you  have  given 
us  of  your  father,  and  his  little  great  grandchildren, 
though  short,  is  extremely  interesting  and  delightful. 
It  confirms  me  in  an  opinion  which  I have  long  en- 
tertained, which  is,  that  there  is  more  happiness  in 
low  life  than  in  high  life  ; in  a cottage  than  in  a castle. 
Pray  give  us,  general,  your  opinion  of  that  matter.” 
“ Why,”  replied  De  Kalb,  “ this  opinion  of  yours, 


THE  LIFE  OF 


$6 

cclonel,  is  r.ot  a novel  one  by  any  means.  It  was  the 
opinion  of  Rousseau,  Fenelon,  and  of  many  other  great 
men,  and  elegant  writers.  But  notwithstanding  such 
high  authority,  I must  still  beg  leave  to  be  a dissenter. 
I have  seen  so  many  people  happy  and  also  unhappy, 
both  in  cottages  and  castles,  that  I cannot  but  con- 
clude, that  happiness  does  not  belong,  peculiarly,  to 
either  condition,  but  depends  on  something  very  dif- 
ferent from,  and  infinitely  superior  to  both.” 

We  eagerly  asked  what  he  alluded  to. 

“ Why,  gentlemen,”  replied  he,  u since  you  have 
been  so  polite  as  to  ask  my  opinion,  I will  as  frankly 
give  it,  though  I am  afraid  it  will  seem  very  odd,  es- 
pecially coming  from  a soldier.  However,  be  that  as 
it  may,*  my  opinion  you  have  asked,  and  my  opinion 
you  shall  have ; which  is,  that  religion  is  the  only 
thing  to  make  a man  happy  in  cottages  or  courts.” 
The  young  officers  began  to  stane. 

Gathering  from  their  looks,  that  some  of  the  com- 
pany did  not  relish  this  kind  of  philosophy,  he  quick- 
ly thus  resumed  his  speech. 

u Pardon  l gentlemen,  I beg  pardon ! I must  not  be 
misunderstood.  By  religion , I don’t  mean  priest- 
craft. I don’t  mean  that  superstitious  grimace  ; that 
rolling  up  of  white  eyes,  and  spreading  of  sanctified 
palms;  with  4 disfigured  faces  and  long  prayers ,’  and 
all  the  rest  of  that  holy  trumpery , which,  so  far  from 
making  people  cheerful,  tends  but  to  throw  them  into 
the  dumps.  But  I mean,  by  religion , that  divine  ef- 
fort of  the  soul,  which  rises  and  embraces  the  great 
author  of  its  being  with  filial  ardour , and  walks  and 
converses  with  him,  as  a dutiful  child  with  his  revered 
father.  Now  gentlemen,  I would  ask,  all  prejudice 
npar%  what  is  there  can  so  exalt  the  mind  and  gladden 
die  heart,  as  this  high  friendship  with  heaven,  and 
those  immortal  hopes  that  spring  from  religion  ?” 
Here  one  of  the  company,  half  blushing,  as  palpa- 
bly convicted  by  the  truth  of  the  general’s  argument 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


97 


smartly  called  out — “ Well  but,  general,  don’t  you 
think  we  can  do  pretty  well  here  in  camp , without 
religion  P” 

u What !”  replied  De  Kalb,“  would  you  give  it  all 
up  to  the  priests  ?” 

“ Yes,  to  be  sure  I would,”  said  the  young  officer, 
u for  I am  for  every  man’s  following  his  own  trade, 
general.  They  are  priests,  and  we  are  soldiers.  So 
let  them  do  all  the  praying *,  and  we  will  do  all  the 
fighting.” 

u Why,  as  to  the  fighting  part,”  rejoined  De  Kalb, 
“ I have  no  objection  to  doing  all  that  for  the  priests, 
especially  as  their  profession  does  not  allow  them  to 
light  for  themselves.  Rut  as  to  giving  them  up  all 
the  devotion , I confess  I am  not  so  liberal.  No ! no! 
gentlemen,  charity  begins  at  home  : and  I am  not 
*or  parting  with  pleasure  so  easily.” 

“ Pleasure  !”  replied  the  young  officer  with  a 
sneer. 

“ Yes,  dvc, pleasure”  returned  De  Kalb.  “Accord- 
ing to  my  creed,  sir,  piety  and  pleasure  are  synony 
mous  terms ; and  I should  just  as  soon  think  of  living 
physically,  without  bread,  as  of  living  pleasantly, 
without  religion.  For  what  is  religion,  as  I said  be- 
fore,  but  habitual  friendship  with  God?  And 
what  can  the  heart  conceive  so  delightful  ? Or  wrhat 
can  so  gratify  it  in  all  its  best  and  strongest  desires  ? 
For  example,  gentlemen,  we  are  all  fond  of  honour. 
I,  for  my  part,  am  fond  of  the  friendship  of  the  king 
of  France.  You  glory  in  the  friendship  of  the  great 
Washington.  Then  wrhat  must  be  the  glory  of  him 
who  is  in  friendship  wdth  God  ? Again,  gentlemen, 
we  are  all  born  to  love,  to  admire,  to  adore.  If 
man  have  no  love,  he  is  gloomy.  If  he  love  a worth- 
less object,  he  is  mortified.  But  if  he  love  a truly 
worthy  object,  his  face  shines,  his  eyes  sparkle,  his 
voice  becomes  sweet,  and  his  whole  air  expressive  of 
cheerfulness.  And  as  this  happy  feeling  must,  in  the 


98 


THE  LIFE  OF 


nature  of  things,  keep  pace  with  the  excellence  of  the 
object  that  is  beloved,  then  what  must  be  the  cheerful- 
ness of  him  who  loves  the  greatest,  best,  and  loveliest 
of  all  beings,  whose  eternal  perfections  and  goodness 
cun  for  ever  make  him  happier  than  heart  can  ask  or 
think  ? 

“ In  a word,  gentlemen,  though  I am  a soldier,  and 
soldiers  you  know  are  seldom  enthusiasts  in  this  way, 
yet  I verily  believe,  as  I said  before,  that  a man  of 
enlightened  and  fervent  piety  must  be  infinitely  hap- 
pier in  a cottage,  than  an  irreligious  emperor  in  his 
palace.” 

In  the  height  of  this  extraordinary  conversation, 
an  ofhcer%tepped  in  and  announced  the  arrival  of 
general  Gates. 

And  here,  as  I have  in  this  chapter  given  the  reader 
what  ehe  jockies  call  a pretty  long  heat,  I beg  leave  to 
crdei  a halt  and  allow  him  a little  time  to  breathe. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Gen . Gates — bon  mot  of  British  general  Lee — how  an 
army  ought  not  to  march — De  Kalb  prophecies - — 
chickens  counted  before  they  are  hatched , alias , Ma- 
rion and  the  author  sent  by  Gen . Gates  to  prevent 
the  escape  of  Cornwallis , before  he  had  run ■ — the 
British  and  American  armies  meet — Gates  and  his 
militia-men  leave  De  Kalb  in  the  lurch— his  gallant 
behaviour , and  glorious  death . 

WHEN  a poor  fellow  is  going  down  hill,  it  is  but 
too  common,  they  say,  for  every  body  to  give  him  a 
kick. 

u Let  dogs  delight  to  bark  and  bite, 

“ For  heaven  hath  made  them  so.” 

But,  if  I know  myself  aright,  I can  truly  say,  that 
nothing  of  this  vile  spirit  suggests  a syllable  of  what 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


99 


I now  write  of  the  unfortunate  general  Gates.  On 
the  contrary,  I feel  an  ardent  wish  to  speak  hand- 
somely of  him ; and  in  one  view  of  him  I can  so  speak. 
As  a gentleman,  few  camps  or  courts  ever  produced 
his  superior.  But  though  a perfect  Chesterfield  at 
court,  in  camp  he  was  certainly  but  a Paris.  ’Tis 
true,  at  Saratoga  he  got  his  temples  stuck  round  with 
laurels  as  thick  as  a May-day  queen  with  gaudy  flow- 
ers. And  though  the  greater  part  ci  this  was  certain- 
ly the  gallant  workmanship  of  Arnold  and  Morgan, 
yet  .did  it  so  hoist  general  Gates  in  the  opinion  of  the 
nation,  that  many  of  his  dear  friends,  with  a prudent 
regard,  no  doubt,  to  thgir  own  dearer  selves,  had  the 
courage  to  bring  him  forward  on  the  military  turf, 
and  run  him  for  the  general! ssimoship  against  the 
great  Washington.  But  though  they  were  not  able  to 
prosper  him  in  this  mad  attempt,  yet  they  so  far  suc- 
ceeded as  to  get  him  the  command  of  the  army  o*7 
Carolina,  where  his  short  and  calamitous  career  soon 
caused  every  good  patriot  to  thank  God  for  continu- 
ing to  his  servant  Washington  the  command  of  the 
American  armies. 

On  his  way  from  the  northern  states,  general 
Gates  passed  through  Fredericksburg,  where  he  fell 
in  with  general  Charles  Lee,  who,  in  his  frahk  man- 
ner, asked  him  where  he  was  going. 

“ Why,  to  take  Cornwallis.” 

u I am  afraid,”  quoth  Lee.  u you  will  find  him  a 
tough  piece  of  English  beef.” 

“ Tough,  sir,”  replied  Gates  ; “ tough  ! then  begad 
I’ll  tender  him.  I’ll  make  piloo  of  hi"  i,  sir,  in  three 
hours  after  I set  eyes  upon  him.” 

“Aye!  will  you  indeed?”  returned  Lee.  “Well 
then  send  for  me,  and  I will  go  and  help  you  to  eat 
him.” 

Gates  smiled ; and  bidding  him  adieu,  rode  off. 
Lee  bawled  after  him,“  Take  care,  Gates  ! take  care ! 


100 


THE  LIFE  OF 


or  your  northern  laurels  will  degenerate  into  south- 
ern willows.” 

The  truth  is,  though  general  Lee  was  extremely 
splenetic,  other  than  which,  such  a miserable  old  ba- 
chelor and  infidel  could  hardly  be,  yet  he  certainly  had 
a knack  of  telling  people’s  fortunes.  By  virtue  of  this 
faculty,  he  presently  discovered  that  general  Gates 
was  no  Fabius ; but  on  the  contrary,  too  much  inclin- 
ed to  the  fatal  rashness  of  his  unfortunate  colleague. 

And  it  turned  out.  For,  from  the  moment  he 
joined  the  arrrfy,  he  appeared  to  act  like  one  who 
thought  of  nothing  but  to  have  it  proclaimed  of  him 
in  all  the  newspapers  on  the  continent,  that  in  so  many 
days,  hours,  minutes,  and  seconds,  he  flew  from  Phi- 
ladelphia to  South  Carolina,  saw , fought , and  con- 
quered Cornwallis  ; and  flew  back  again  with  the  tro- 
phies of  a second  British  army  vanquished.  Instead 
of  moving  on  as  old  De  Kalb  had  done,  with  a pru- 
dent regard  to  the  health  and  refreshment  of  the 
troops,  he,  Jehu  like,  drove  them  on  without  regard 
to  either.  He  would  not  take  the  lower  road,  as  De 
Kalb  earnestly  advised,  through  a rich  and  plentiful 
country.  Oh  no  ; that  was  too  round  about ; would 
too  long  have  delayed  his  promised  glory. 

Like  an  eagle  shaking  his  bold  pinions  in  the  clouds 
of  his  pride,  he  must  dash  down  at  once  upon  his  prey ; 
and  so,  for  a near  cut,  take  us  through  a pine  barren , 
sufficient  to  have  starved  a forlorn  hope  of  caterpillars. 
I shall  make  no  attempt  to  describe  the  sufferings  of 
the  army.  For,  admitting  that  I should  not  lack  words, 
my  reader  would,  I am  sure,  lack  faith.  Indeed,  at 
this  season,  when  the  old  crop  was  gone,  and  the  new 
not  quite  come  in,  what  had  we  to  expect,  especially 
in  such  a miserable  country,  where  many  a family  goes 
without  dinner,  unless  the  father  can  knock  down  a 
squirrel  in  the  woods,  or  his  pale  sickly  boy  pick  up  a 
terrapin  in  the  swamps  ? We  did,  indeed,  sometimes 
fall  in  with  a little  corn ; but  then,  the  poor,  skinny, 


GEN,  FRANCIS  MARION. 


/ 101 


sun-burnt  women,  with  long  uncombed  tresses,  and 
shrivelled  breasts  hanging  down,  would  run  scream- 
ing to  us,  with  tears  in  their  eyes,  declaring  that  if  we 
took  away  thepr  com,  they  and  their  children  must 
perish.  Such  times  I never  saw,  and  I pray  God  I 
may  never  see  nor  hear  of  again ; for,  to  this  day,  the 
bare  thought  of  it  depresses  my  spirits.  But  perhaps 
I ought  to  think  of  it,  and  often  too,  that  I may  be  the 
more  thankful  to  him  who  never,  but  in  that  one  in 
stance,  permitted  me  to  suffer,  except  in  thinking  of  it. 

There  was  one  case  in  particular  which  I shall 
never  forget.  Almost  spent  with  fatigue  and  fasting, 
we  halted  one  evening  near  the  house  of  a man,  whose 
plantation  bespoke  him  a tolerably  good  liver.  He  met 
us  with  a countenance  strongly  marked  with  terror, 
and  begged  for  God’s  sake  we  would  not  ruin  him,  for 
that  he  had  a large  family  of  children  to  maintain. 
We  told  him  that  we  were  soldiers  fighting  for  the 
country,  and  that  it  would  never  do  for  us  to  starve. 
Understanding  from  this  that  we  meant  to  forage  upon 
him  that  night,  he  heaved  a deep  sigh,  and  turning 
about,  went  off  without  saying  another  word.  I must 
confess  I could  not  help  feeling  very  sensibly  for  him, 
especially  when  we  saw  his  little  white-headed  chib 
dren,  in  melancholy  groups,  peeping  at  us  around  the 
corners  of  the  house. 

His  young  corn,  which  seemed  to  cover  about  fifty 
acres,  was  just  in  the  prime , 1'oasting  ear  state , and 
he  had  also  a couple  of  beautiful  orchards  of  peach 
and  apple  trees,  loaded  with  young  fruit.  Scarcely 
were  our  tents  pitched,  before  the  whole  army,  foot 
and  horse,  turned  in  to  destroy.  The  trees  were  ail 
threshed  in  a trice : after  which  the  soldiers  fell,  like 
a herd  of  wild  boars,  upon  the  roasting  ears,  and  the 
horses  upon  the  blades  and  stalks,  so  that  by  morn- 
ing. light  there  was  no  sign  or  symptom  left  that  corn 
had  ever  grown  there  since  the  creation  of  the  world. 
Win  t became  of  the  poor  man  and  his  children  God 
12 


102 


THE  LIFE  OF 


only  knows,  for  by  sunrise  we  were  all  under  march* 
mg  orders  again,  bending  for  the  south.  I said  all 
but  I only  meant  all  that  were  able.  For  numbers 
were  knocked  up  every  night  by  agues,  fluxes,  and 
other  maladies,  brought  on  by  excessive  fatigue  and 
lack  of  food. 

I once  before  observed  how  highly  the  baron  de 
Kalb  had  been  pleased  to  think  of  Marion  and  myself 
travelling  so  far  to  meet  him.  His  liking  for  us  grew 
so  fast,  that  we  had  not  been  with  him  more  than  two 
days,  before  he  appointed  us  his  supernumerary  ciuis. 
We  were,  of  course,  much  in  his  company,  and  en- 
trusted, I believe,  with  every  thought  of  his  bosom 
that  related  to  the  good  of  the  army.  He  made  no 
scruple  to  tell  us  how  utterly  unmilitary  those  pro- 
ceedings were ; and  frequently  foretold  the  ruin  that 
would  ensue. 

“ Here,”  said  he,  '4  we  are  hurrying  to  attack  an 
enemy,  who,  if  they  but  knew  our  condition,  would 
long  for  nothing  so  much  as  our  arrival.  We , two- 
thirds  at  least,  raw  militia  ; they , all  regulars.  We, 
fatigued  ; they,  fresh.  We,  feeble  and  faint  through 
long  fasting;  they,  from  high  keeping,  as  strong  and 
fierce  as  game  cocks  or  butchers’  bull  dogs.  It  does 
not  signify,  gentlemen;  it  is  all  over  with  us;  our 
army  is  lost  as  sure  as  ever  it  comes  into  contact 
with  the  British.  I have  hinted  these  things  more 
than  once  to  general  Gates,  but  he  is  an  officer  who 
will  take  no  counsel  but  his  own.” 

The  truth  is,  general  Gates  was  one  of  that  crazy- 
brained  quality,  to  whom  it  is  a misfortune  to  be 
fortunate.  The  least  dram  of  success  would  intoxi- 
cate and  make  him  fool  hardy . He  could  net  ar  bring 
himself  to  believe,  as  he  used  to  say,  that  u lord 
Cornwallis  woiild,  dare  to  look  him  in  the  face.” 

So  confident,  indeed,  was  he  of  victory,  that  on  the 
morning  before  the  fatal  action,  he  ordered  Marion 
and  myself  to  hasten  on  to  Santee  river7  and  destrov 


4 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


103 


every  score , boat,  or  canoe , that  could  assist  an  Eng- 
lishman in  his  flight  to  Charleston  ! 

Immediately  on  receiving  orders,  we  waited  on 
the  good  old  De  Kalb  to  take  leave  ; and  also  to  as- 
sure him  of  our  deep  regret  at  parting  with  him. 

u It  is  with  equal  regret,  my  dear  sirs,”  said  he, 
w that  I part  with  you,  because  I feel  a presentiment 
that  we  part  to  meet  no  more.” 

We  told  him  we  hoped  better  things. 

“ Oh  no  !”  replied  he,  u it  is  impossible.  War  is  a 
kind  of  game,  and  has  its  fixed  rules , whereby,  when 
we  are  well  acquainted  with  them,  we  can  pretty  cor- 
rectly tell  how  the  trial  will  go.  To-morrow  it  seems, 
the  die  is  to  be  cast,  and  in  my  judgment,  without 
the  least  chance  on  our  side.  The  militia  will,  I sup- 
pose, as  usual,  play  the  back-game,  that  is,  get  out  of 
the  scrape  as  fast  as  their  legs  can  carry  them.  But 
that,  you  know,  won’t  do  for  me.  I am  an  old  soldier , 
and  cannot  run  : and  I believe  I have  with  me  some 
brave  fellows  that  will  stand  by  me  to  the  last.  So 
that,  when  you  hear  of  our  battle,  you  will  probably 
hear  that  your  old  friend  De  Kalb  is  at  rest.” 

I do  not  know  that  I was  ever  more  affected  in  my 
life.  I looked  at  Marion  and  saw  that  his  eyes  were 
watery.  De  Kalb  saw  it  too,  and  taking  us  by  the 
hand,  with  a firm  tone,  and  animated  look,  said,  u No! 
no  ! gentlemen  ; no  emotions  for  me  but  those  of  con- 
gratulation. I am  happy.  To  die  is  the  irreversible 
decree  of  him  who  made  us.  Then  what  joy  to  be 
able  to  meet  his  decree  without  dismay  ! This,  thank 
God,  is  my  case.  The  happiness  of  man  is  my  wish  ; 
that  happiness  I deem  inconsistent  with  slavery . — 
And  to  avert  so  great  an  evil  from  an  innocent  peo- 
ple, I will  gladly  meet  the  British  to-morrow,  at  any 
odds  whatever.” 

As  he  spoke  this,  I saw  a something  in  his  eyes 
■which  at  once  demonstrated  the  divinity  of  virtue 
and  the  immortality  of  the  soul 


THE  LIFE  OF 


104, 

With  sorrowful  hearts  we  then  left  him,  and  with 
feelings  which  I shall  never  forget,  while  memory 
maintains  her  place  in  this  my  aged  brain. 

u Oh  my  God !”  said  Marion,  as  we  rode  oT,u  what 
a difference  does  education  make  between  man  and 
man!  Enlightened  by  her  sacred  ray,  see  here  is  the 
native  of  a distant  country,  come  to  fight  for  our 
liberty  and  happiness,  while  many  of  our  own  people, 
for  lack  of  education , are  actually  aiding  the  British 
to  heap  chains  and  curses  upon  themselves  and  chil- 
dren.” 

It  was  on  the  morning  of  August  the  15th,  If 80, 
that  we  left  the  army  in  a good  position  near  Ruge- 
ley’s  mills,  twelve  miles  from  Camden,  where  the 
enemy  lay.  About  ten  o’clock  that  night  orders  were 
given  to  march  to  surprise  the  enemy,  who  had  at 
the  same  time  commenced  their  march,  to  surprise 
the  Americans.  To  their  mutual  astonishment,  the 
advance  of  the  two  armies  met  about  two  o’clock,  and 
began  to  fire  on  each  other.  The  firing,  however,  was 
soon  discontinued  by  both  parties,  who  appeared  very 
willing  to  leave  the  matter  to  be  decided  by  daylight. 
A council  of  war  was  called : in  which  Be  Kalb  ad- 
vised that  the  army  should  fall  back  to  Rugeley’s  mills, 
and.  there,  in  a good  position,  wait  to  be  attacked. — 
But  Gates  not  only  rejected  this  excellent  counsel, 
but  threw  out  suspicions  that  it  originated  from  fear. 
Upon  this,  the  brave  old  De  Kalb  called  to  his  ser- 
vant to  take  his  horse,  and  leaping  on  the  ground, 
placed  himself  at  the  head  of  his  command,  on  foot. 
To  this  indecent  expression  of  general  Gates,  be  alsv> 
started  with  considerable  warmth,  “ Well,  sir,  a few 
.ours  perhaps  will  let  us  see  who  are  the  brave.” 

It  should  be  recorded  for  the  benefit  of  our  officem, 
many  of  whose  laurels  have  been  blasted  by  the  fumes 
of  brandy,  that  general  Gates  was  rather  too  fond  of 
his  nocturnal  glass. 

“ I wonder  where  \vt  shall  dine  to-morrow  ?”  sai  1 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


105 


one  of  his  officers,  as,  in  the  dark,  they  sat  on  theii 
sleepy  horses,  waiting  for  the  day. 

“ Dine,  sir!”  replied  the  confident  Gates,  “ why, 
at  Camden,  sir,  to  be  sure.  Begad!  I would  not  give 
a pinch  of  snuff,  sir,  to  be  insured  a beef-steak  to-mor- 
row in  Camden,  and  lord  Cornwallis  at  my  table.” 

Presently  day  appeared  ; and,  as  the  dawning  light 
increased,  the  frighted  militia  began  to  discover  the 
woods  reddening  over  like  crimson  with  the  long  ex- 
tended lines  of  the  British  army,  which  soon,  with 
rattling  drums  and  thundering  cannon,  came  rushing 
on  to  the  charge.  The  militia,  scarcely  waiting  to 
give  them  a distant  fire,  broke  and  fled  in  the  utmost 
precipitation.  Whereupon  Gates  clapped  spurs  to 
his  horse,  and  pushed  hard  after  them,  as  he  said, u to 
bring  the  rascals  back.”  • But  he  took  care  never  to 
bring  himself  back,  nor  indeed  to  stop  until  he  had 
fairly  reached  Charlotte,  eighty  miles  from  the  field 
of  battle.  I remember  it  was  common  to  talk  in  those 
days,  that  he  killed  three  horses  in  his  fl  ight. 

Gates  and  the  militia,  composing  two-thirds  of  the 
army,  having  thus  shamefully  taken  themselves  off, 
the  brave  old  De  Kalb,  and  his  handful  of  continen- 
tcds,  were  left  alone  to  try  the  fortune  of  the  day.  And 
never  did  men  display  a more  determined  valour! 
For  though  outnumbered  more  than  two  to.  one,  they 
sustained  the  shock  of  the  enemy’s  whole  force,  for 
upwards  of  an  hour.  With  equal  fury  the  ranks-sweep- 
ing  cannon  and  muskets  were  employed  by  both  sides, 
until  the  contending  legions  were  nearly  mixed.  Then 
quitting  this  slowrer  mode  of  slaughter,  writh  rage- 
blackened  faces  and  fiery  eyeballs,  they  plunge  for- 
ward on  each  other,  to  the  swifter  vengeance  of  the 
bayonet.  Far  and  wide  the  woods  resound  with  the 
clang  of  steel,  while  the  red  reeking  weapons,  like 
stings  of  infernal  serpents,  are  seen  piercing  the  bo- 
dies of  the  combatants.  Some,  on  receiving  the  fatal 
stab,  let  drop  their  useless  arms,  and  with  dying  fin* 


106 


THE  LIFE  OF 


gers  clasped  the  hostile  steel  that’s  cold  in  their  bow- 
els. Others,  faintly  crying  out,  uO  God  I am  slain!” 
sank  pale,  quivering  to  the  ground,  while  the  vital 
current  gushed  in  hissing  streams  from  their  bursted 
bosoms.  Officers,  as  well  as  men,  now  mingle  in  the 
uproaring  strife,  and  snatching  the  weapons  of  the 
slain,  swell  the  horrid  carnage.  Glorying  in  his  con- 
tinentals, the  brave  De  Kalb  towers  before  them,  like 
a pillar  of  lire.  Kis  burning  face  is  like  a red  star, 
guiding  their  destructive  course;  his  voice , as  the 
horn  that  kindles  the  young  pack  in  the  chase  of  blood. 
A British  grenadier,  of  giant  size,  rushes  on  him  with 
a fixed  bayonet.  De  Kalb  parries  the  furious  blow, 
and  plunges  his  sword  in  the  Briton’s  breast;  then, 
seizing  his  falling  arms,  he  deals  death  around  him 
on  the  crowding  foe.’  Loud  rise  the  shouts  of  the 
Americans  ; but  louder  still  the  shouts  of  the  more 
numerous  enemy.  The  battle  burns  anew  along  all 
the  fierce  conflicting  line.  There,  the  distant  Corn- 
wallis pushes  on  his  fresh  regiments,  like  red  clouds, 
bursting  in  thunder  on  the  Americans;  and  here,  con- 
densing his  diminished  legions,  the  brave  De  Kalb 
still  maintains  the  unequal  contest.  But,  alas ! what 
can  valour  do  against  equal  valour,  aided  by  such  fear- 
ful odds  ? The  sons  of  freedom  bleed  on  every  side. 
With  grief  their  gallant  leader  marks  the  fall  of  his 
heroes;  soon  himself  to  fall.  For,  as  with  a face  all 
inflamed  in  the  fight,  he  bends  forward  animating  his 
men,  he  receives  eleven  wounds  ! Fainting  with  loss 
of  blood,  he  falls  to  the  ground.  Several  brave  men, 
Britons  and  Americans,  were  killed  over  him,  as  they 
furiously  strove  to  destroy  or  to  defend.  In  the  midst 
of  the  clashing  bayonets,  his  only  surviving  aid,  Mon- 
sier  du  Buyson,  ran  to  him,  and  stretching  his  arms 
over  the  fallen  hero,  called  out,  “ Save  the  baron  de 
Kalb  ! Save  the  baron  de  Kalb  !”  The  British  officers 
interposed,  and  prevented  his  immediate  destruction. 

It  has  been  said  that  lord  Cornwallis  was  so  struck 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


107 


with  the  bravery  of  De  Kalb,  that  he  generously  su- 
p rintended  while  his  wounds  were  dressed,  by  his 
own  surgeons.  It  has  also  been  said,  that  he  appoint- 
ed him  to  be  buried  with  the  honours  of  war.  British 
officers  have  been  often  known  to  do  such  noble 
deeds,  but  that  lord  Cornwallis  was  capable  of  acfing 
so  honourably,  is  doubtful. 

De  Kalb  died  as  he  had  lived,  the  unconquercd 
friend  of  liberty.  For,  being  kindly  condoled  with 
by  a British  officer  for  his  misfortune , he  replied,  I 
thank  you,  sir,  for  your  generous  sympathy  ; but  I d e 
the  death  I always  prayed  for;  the  death  of  a soldi'  r 
fighting  for  the  rights  of  man.” 

His  last  moments  were  spent  in  dictating  a letter 
to  a friend  concerning  his  continentals,  of  whom  he 
said,  he  “ had  no  words  that  could  sufficiently  express 
his  love,  and  his  admiration  of  their  valour.”  He  sur 
vived  the  action  but  a few  hours,  and  was  buried  in 
the  plains  of  Camden,  near  which  his  last  battle  was 
fought. 

When  the  great  Washington,  many  years  after 
wards,  came  on  a visit  to  Camden,  he  eagerly  in- 
quired for  the  grave  of  De  Kalb.  It  was  shown  to 
him.  After  looking  on  it  a while,  with  a countenance 
marked  with  thought,  he  breathed  a deep  sigh,  and 
exclaimed — “ So,  there  lies  the  brave  De  Kalb  ; the 
generous  stranger,  who  came  from  a distant  land,  to 
fight  our  battles,  and  to  water,  with  his  blood,  the 
tree  of  our  liberty.  Would  to  God  he  had  lived  to 
share  with  us  its  fruits  !” 

Congress  ordered  him  a monument.  But  the  friend 
of  St.  Tammany  still  sleeps  a without  his  fame.”  I 
have  seen  the  place  of  his  rest.  It  was  the  lowest 
spot  of  the  plain.  No  sculptured  warrior  mourned 
at  his  low-laid  head;  no  cypress  decked  his  heel.  But 
the  tall  corn  stood  in  darkening  ranks  around  him, 
and  seemed  to  shake  their  green  leaves  with  joy  over 
is  narrow  dwelling. 


103 


THE  LIFE  OF 


But  the  roar  of  his  battle  is  not  yet  quite  passed 
away,  nor  his  ghastly  wounds  forgotten.  The  citizens 
of  Camden  have  lately  enclosed  his  grave,  and  placed 
on  it  a handsome  marble,  with  an  epitaph  gratefully 
descriptive  of  his  virtues  and  services,  that  the 
people  of  future  days  may,  like  Washington,  heave 
the  sigh  when  they  read  of  u the  generous  stranger 
who  came  from  a distant  land  to  fight  their  battles, 
and  to  water,  with  His  blood,  the  tree  of  their  liber- 
ties.” 

Fair  Camden’s  plains  his  glorious  dust  inhume, 

Where  annual  Ceres  shades  her  hero’s  tomb. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Marion  and  the  author  very  busy  in  dtstroying  the 
rice-makers ’ boats  on  Santee— first  got  the  news  of 
the  defeat  of  our  army , and  death  of  the  brave  De 
Kalb — Marion  addresses  his  followers — their  gaU 
lant  reply . 

MARION  and  myself,  as  yet  ignorant  of  the  fate 
of  the  army,  were  on  the  waters  of  the  Santee,  very 
busily  executing  our  boat-burning  orders.  Not  con- 
tent with  destroying  the  common  scows  and  flats  of 
the  ferries,  we  went  on  to  sweep  the  river  of  eve 
skiff  and  canoe  that  we  could  lay  hands  on ; nay,  haa 
the  harmless  wonkopkins  been  able  to  ferry  an  Eng- 
lishman over  the  river,  we  should  certainly  have  de 
dared  war  and  hurled  our  firebrands  among  them. 

The  reader  may  be  sure  we  gained  no  good  will  by 
our  zeal  in  this  affair  ; for  it  was  a serious  thing  to  the 
planters : and  their  wrath  waxed  exceedingly  hot 
against  us.  Among  that  fleet  of  boats  and  flats  that 
perished  by  our  firebrands  or  hatchets,  there  were  two 
that  belonged  to  my  excellent  old  uncle,  colonel  E. 
Horry.  The  old  gentleman  could  hardly  believe  his 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


109 


negroes,  when  they  told  him  that  we  were  destroying 
his  boats.  However,  to  be  satisfied  of  the  matter,  he 
mounted  his  horse,  and  galloped  down  to  the  river  to 
see.  W e had  completely  done  for  his  scow,  and  were 
just  giving  the  finishing  blows  to  his  boat  as  he  hove 
in  sight ; whereupon,  clapping  whip  and  spur  to  his 
horse,  he  came  on  as  hard  as  he  could  drive.  Soon  as 
he  was  within  hailing  distance  of  an  ordinary  speak- 
ing trumpet,  he  began  to  bawl — “Hold!  hold!  for 
God’s  sake  hold  P’ 

Then  dashing  up,  with  cheeks  red  as  fire  coals,  and 
his  mouth  all  in  a lather,  he  roared  out,  “ Why,  what  ? 
what  ? what  are  you  about  here  ?” 

u We  are  only  trying  to  kidnap  the  British,  uncle,” 
said  I. 

“ Kidnap  the  d — 1,”  he  replied. 

Then  looking  around,  and  seeing  how  completely 
we  had  shivered  his  fine  new  boat  and  scow,  he  ripped 
out  again — “ Well ! here  is  a pretty  spot  of  work  ! a 
pretty  spot  of  work  ! A branding  new  scow  and  boat, 
that  cost  me,  only  last  spring,  three  hundred  dollars  ! 
every  farthing  of  it ! and  here  now  all  cut  to  smash  ! 
ruined ! not  worth  a chew  of  tobacco  ! why ! did  mor- 
tal flesh  ever  see  the  like  of  this  ! Breaking  up  our 
boats ! why,  how  are  we  to  harvest  our  rice  ?” 

“ Uncle,”  said  I, u you  had  better  think  less  of  har 
vesting  your  rice,  and  more  of  catching  the  musk 
rats,”  meaning  the  British. 

Here,  darting  at  me  an  eye  of  inexpressible  asto 
nishment  and  rage,  he  exclaimed — “ Why,  certainlv 
the  d — 1 is  in  the  young  man  ! catch  the  British : 
Why,  have  you  not  heard  that  the  British  are  carrying 
every  thing  before  them  ; have  broke  up  our  army ; 
cut  the  regulars  to  pieces ; scattered  the  militia;  and 
chased  general  Gates  to  Jericho,  and  to  the  d“l  for 
what  I care  ?” 

“ God  forbid  !”  said  Marion. 

“Nay,  that  is  past  praving  for,”  replied  my  uncle ; 
K 


110 


THE  LIFE  OF 


“and  if  you  had  any  interest  in  heaven,  you  ought 
to  have  made  it  sooner.  It  is  too  late  now.” 

u Great  God !”  returned  Marion  ; “ and  so  our  ar- 
my is  lost!” 

u Yes,”  continued  my  uncle;  “ lost,  as  sure  as  a 
gun:  and  that  is  not  all ; for  Be  Kalb  is  killed;  Sump- 
ter surprised  and  cut  to  pieces  ; and  Charleston  illu- 
minated every  night  for  joy.” 

We  could  neither  of  us  utter  a word. 

Presently  my  uncle,  casting  a searching  eye  around 
on  our  men,  about  thirty  in  number,  asked  where  our 
droops  were. 

I told  him  those  were  all  the  troops  we  had. 

I thought  the  good  old  gentleman  would  have  gone 
into  fits.  He  rolled  up  his  eyes  to  heaven ; smacked 
his  hands  together,  and  bringing  them  by  a sudden 
jerk  to  his  breast,  with  a shrill  whistle  exclaimed, 
“ Mad  ! — mad  ! — the  young  fellow  is  as  mad  as  a 
March  hare — Well,  I’ll  tell  you  what,  nephew  of  mine, 
you  may  go  about  on  the  river,  chopping  the  planters’ 
boats  at  this  rate,  but  I would  not  be  in  your  coat,  my 
1-ad,  for  your  jacket,  though  it  was  stiff  with  gold.” 

I asked  him  what  he  meant  by  that  ? 

“ Why,  I mean,”  replied  he,  “that  if  you  are  not, 
all  of  you,  knocked  on  the  head  in  three  hours,  it  will 
be  a wonder.” 

“ Aye ! what  makes  you  think  so,  uncle  said  I. 

He  answered:  “ You  know  my  old  waiting  man, 
Tom,  don’t  you  ?” 

“To  be  sure  I dod’  said  I ; “ I have  known  Tom 
ever  since  I was  a boy,  and  should  be  confounded  sor- 
ry to  hear  Tom  prophesy  any  harm  of  me  ; for  I have 
always  taken  him  to  be  a very  true  man  of  his  word.” 

“ Yes,  I’ll  warrant  him,”  said  my  uncle ; “ for 
though  Tom  is  a negro,  and  as  black  as  old  Nick,  yet 
I would  as  soon  take  Tom’s  word  as  that  of  any  white 
man  in  Carolina.  Well,  Tom,  you  know,  has  a wife 

at  Mr. ’s,  as  rank  a tory  as  we  have  hereabouts. 

On  coming  home  this  morning,  he  shook  his  head  and 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


Ill 


said  he  was  mighty  ’fraid  you  and  Col.  Marion  were 
in  a bad  box;  for,  that  he  got  it  from  one  of  the  black 
waiters  in  the  house,  who  overheard  the  talk,  that 
there  are  three  companies  of  tories  now  moulding 
their  bullets,  and  making  ready  to  cut  you  off.” 

I looked  at  Marion  and  saw  battle  in  his  face. 

My  uncle  was  about  to  invite  us  to  the  house  ; but 
Marion  interrupted  him  by  saying,  u This  is  no  time 
to  think  of  visiting;”  and  turning  to  his  trumpeter, 
ordered  him  to  wind  his  horn,  which  was  instantly 
done.  Then  placing  himself  at  our  head,  he  dashed 
off  at  a charging  lope ; with  equal  speed  we  followed 
and  soon  lost  sight  of  my  uncle  Horry. 

On  reaching  the  woods,  Marion  ordered  the  troop 
to  halt  and  form ; when,  with  his  usual  modesty,  he 
thus  addressed  us: 

“ Well,  gentlemen,  you  see  our  situation!  widely 
different  from  what  it  once  was.  Yes,  once  we  were 
a happy  people  ! Liberty  shone  upon  our  land,  bright 
as  the  sun  that  gilds  yon  fields  ; while  we  and  our 
fathers  rejoiced  in  its  lovely  beams,  gay  as  the  birds 
that  enliven  our  forests.  But,  alas  ! those  golden  days 
are  gone,  and  the  cloud  of  war  now  hangs  dark  and 
lowering  over  our  heads.  Our  once  peaceful  land  is 
now  filled  with  uproar  and  death.  Foreign  ruffians, 
braving  us  up  to  our  very  firesides  and  altars,  leave 
us  no  alternative  but  slavery  or  death.  Two  gallant 
armies  have  been  marched  to  our  assistance ; but,  for 
lack  of  competent  commanders,  both  have  been  lost. 
That  under  general  Lincoln,  after  having  been  duped 
and  butchered  at  Savannah,  was  at  last  completely 
trapped  at  Charleston.  And  that  under  general  Gates, 
after  having  been  imprudently  overmarched,  is  now 
• cut  up  at  Camden.  Thus  are  all  our  hopes  from  the 
north  entirely  at  an  end  ; and  poor  Carolina  is  left  to 
shift  for  herself.  A sad  shift  indeed,  when  not  one 
in  a thousand  of  her  own  children  will  rise  to  take  her 
part ; but,  on  the  contrary,  are  madly  taking  part  with 
the  enemy  against  her.  And  now,  my  countrymen,  I 


112 


THE  LIFE  OF 


want  to  know  your  minds.  As  to  my  own,  that  has 
long  been  made  up.  I consider  my  life  as  but  a mo- 
ment. But  I also  consider,  that  to  fill  that  moment 
with  duty , is  my  all.  To  guard  my  innocent  country 
against  the  evils  of  slavery,  seems  now  my  greatest 
duty ; and,  therefore,  I am  determined,  that  while  I 
live,  slie  shall  never  be  enslaved.  She  may  come  to 
that  wretched  state  for  what  I know,  but  my  eyes 
shall  never  behold  it.  Never  shall  she  Clank  her 
chains  in  my  ears,  and  pointing  to  the  ignominious 
badge,  exclaim,  u it  was  your  cowardice  that 

BROUGHT  ME  TO  THIS.” 

In  answer  to  this  we  unanimously  assured  him,  that 
those  sentiments  and  resolutions  were  exactly  our 
own  : and  that  we  were  steadfastly  determined  to  die 
with  him,  or  conquer  for  our  country. 

u Well  then,  my  brave  friends,”  said  he,  u draw 
your  swords!  Now  for  a circle,  emblematical  of  out 
eternal  union ! and  pointing  your  blades  to  heaven, 
the  bright  throne  of  Him  who  made  us  free,  swear 
you  will  never  be  slaves  of  Britain.” 

Which  was  all  most  devoutly  done. 

Soon  as  this  patriotic  rite  was  performed,  we  all  dis- 
mounted ; and  taking  our  seats  on  the  trunks  of  two 
fallen  pines  that  lay  conveniently  parallel,  we  made 
our  simple  dinner  of  cold  roots ; and  for  our  beverage 
drank  of  the  lucid  stream  that  softly  murmured  by. 

The  reader  will  please  to  keep  in  mind,  that  our 
troops  consisted  of  but  thirty  mounted  militia;  chief- 
ly gentlemen  volunteers,  armed  with  muskets  and 
swords,  but  almost  without  powder  and  ball.  How 
Marion  came  to  be  at  the  head  of  this  littly  party,  it 
may  be  amusing  to  the  reader  to  hear. 

Some  short  time  before  this  date,  1779 — 80,  when 
the  war  began  to  rage  in  South  Carolina,  a British 
captain  by  the  name  of  Ardeisoff  came  up  to  George- 
town in  an  armed  vessel,  and  filled  the  country  with 
printed  proclamations  from  lord  Cornwallis,  calling 
on  the  good  people  of  South  Carolina  to  submit  and 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


113 


take  royal  protections  ! ! Numbers  of  the  ignorant  and 
pusillanimous  sort  closed  with  the  offer.  But  the  no- 
bler ones  of  the  district,  (Williamsburgh)  having  no 
notion  of  selling  their  liberties  for  a pig  in  a pokt^ 
called  a caucus  of  their  own,  from  whom  they  select- 
ed captain  John  James,  and  sent  him  down  to  master 
captain  Ardeisoff,  to  know  what  he  would  be  at.  This 
captain  James,  by  birth  an  Irishman,  had  rendered 
himself  so  popular  In  the  district,  that  he  was  made  a 
militia  captain  under  the  royal  government.  But  in 
’75,  soon  as  he  found  that  the  ministry  were  deter- 
mined to  tax  the  Americans,  without  allowing  them 
the  common  British  right  of  representation , he  brave- 
ly threw  up  his  co  amission,  declaring  that  he  would 
never  serve  a tyrant.  Such  was  the  gentleman 
chosen  by  the  aforesaid  liberty  caucus,  to  go  on  the 
embassy  before  mentioned.  In  the  garb  of  a plain 
planter,  James  presented  himself  before  the  haughty 
captain  Ardeisoff,  and  politely  asked  w on  what  terms 
himself  and  friends  must  submit  ?” 

“ What  terms,  sir !”  replied  the  angry  Briton, 
“ what  terms  ! why,  no  other  terms,  you  may  be  sure, 
than  unconditional  submission.” 

w Well  but,  sir,”  answered  James,  very  calmly, 
“ are  we  not  to  be  allowed  to  stay  at  home  in  peace 
and  quiet  ?” 

u In  peace  and  quiet,  indeed  !”  replied  Ardeisoff, 
with  a sarcastic  grin  ; u a pretty  story,  truly  l Stay 
at  home  in  peace  and  quiet,  heh  ? No,  no,  sir,  you 
have  all  rebelled  against  your  king;  and  if  treated  as 
you  deserve,  would  now  be  dancing  like  dogs  at  the 
arms  of  the  gallows.  But  his  majesty  is  merciful,  sir ; 
and  now  that  he  has  graciously  pardoned  you,  he  ex- 
pects you  will  immediately  take  up  arms  and  turn 
out  in  support  of  his  cause.” 

u You  are  very  candid,  sir,”  said  James  ; “ and  now 
I hope  you  will  not  be  displeased  with  me  for  being 
equally  plain.  Permit  me,  then,  sir,  to. tell  you  that 
K 2 


114 


THE  LIFE  OF 


such  terms  will  never  go  down  with  the  gentlemen 
whom  I have  the  honour  to  represent.” 

u The  gentlemen  you  have  the  honour  to  represent, 
you  d — n — d rebel !” 

Vesuvius!  Jltna  ! and  Strumbolo  ! what  are  your 
fires  and  flames,  compared  with  those  that  raged  in 
the  bosom  of  James,  when  he  heard  himself  called  a 
d — n — d rebel ! 

Instantly  springing  up,  with  eyes  of  lightning,  he 
snatched  up  his  chair,  and,  regardless  of  consequences, 
laid  the  audacious  ArdeisofF  sprawling  on  the  floor; 
then  flying  to  his  horse,  he  mounted  and  made  his 
escape.  Learning  from  him,  at  his  return,  what  they 
had  to  understand  by  British  protections , his  gallant 
constituents  came  at  once  to  the  resolution  to  arm  and 
fight  till  death,  rather  than  hold  life  on  such  ignomini- 
ous terms.  Immediately  the  whole  force  of  the  district, 
about  two  hundred,  able  to  bear  arms,  were  mustered 
and  placed  under  captains  William  McColtery,  John 
M‘  Cawley,  Henry  Mo  wizen,  and  our  brave  captain 
James,  who  was  appointed  major  and  captain  general 
of  the  whole.  Feeling  that  distrust  in  themselves 
which  is  common  with  raw  troops,  and  learning  that 
the  northern  army  was  just  entering  South  Carolina, 
they  despatched  a messenger  to  general  Gates,  to  re- 
quest that  he  would  send  them  an  officer  who  had  seen 
service . Governor  Rutledge,  who  happened  at  that 
time  to  be  in  camp,  advised  general  Gates  by  all  means 
to  send  Marion.  Marion  was  accordingly  sent ; but 
with  orders,  as  we  have  seen,  to  destroy,  on  his  route, 
all  the  boats  on  the  Santee  river,  lest  lord  Cornwallis 
should  make  his  escape.  At  the  time  of  leaving  ge- 
neral Gates,  Marion  had  but  ten  men  with  him  ; but 
on  reaching  Santee,  we  were  joined  by  major  John 
James,  with  about  twenty  gallant  gentlemen  volun- 
teers, making  his  whole  force  about  thirty. 

A slender  force,  to  be  sure,  to  oppose  to  the  tremen- 
dous powers  which  Marion  had  to  encounter  ! But, 
ukthe  Lord  is  king,  the  victory  is  his !”  and  when  he 


Captain  James. , knocking  down  Captain  Ardeisojf  with 
a Chair. 


L FBP«v 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  3F  ILLINOIS 


4 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


115 


pleases  to  give  it  to  an  oppressed  people, he  can  make 
the  few  and  feeble  overcome  the  many  and  mighty 
As  the  brave  major  James  may  perhaps  be  men- 
tioned no  more  in  this  history,  I must  gratify  the 
^eader  by  informing  him,  that  the  noble  major  lost 
nothing  by  his  attachment  to  duty  and  the  rights  of 
man.  He  lived  to  see  Cornwallis,  Tarletcn,  and  Raw- 
don,  laid  as  low  as  the  insolent  Ardeisoff ; and  after 
enjoying  many  years  of  sweet  repose,  under  the  plea- 
sant shade  of  peace  and  plenty,  he  sunk  gently  to 
rest.  But  though  now  fallen  asleep,  he  still  lives  in 
his  country’s  gratitude,  and  in  the  virtues  of  his  son, 
who  fills  one  of  the  highest  places  in  the  judiciary  of 
his  native  state. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Carolina  apparently  lost > — Marion  almost  alone , keeps 
the  field — begins  to  figure — surprises  a strong  Bri- 
tish party  at  Nelson's  old  field — scourges  the  torics 
at  Black  Mingo — again  smites  them  hip  and  thigh 
on  Pedee . 

THE  history  of  the  American  revolution  is  a his 
tory  of  miracles,  all  bearing,  like  sunbeams,  on  this* 
heavenly  fat : u America  shall  be  free  !” 

Some  ot  our  chimney-corner  philosophers  can 
hardly  believe,  when  they  read  of  Sampson  making 
such  a smash  among  the  Philistines  with  the  jaw- 
bone of  an  ass.  Then  how  will  they  believe  what  1 
am  going  to  tell  them  of  Marion  ? How  will  they  be- 
lieve that,  at  a time  when  the  British  had  completely 
overrun  South  Carolina ; their  head  quarters  at 
Charleston  ; a victorious  army  at  Camden ; strong 
garrisons  at  Georgetown  and  Jacksonborough,  with 
Swarms  of  thievish  and  bloody  minded  tories,  filling 
up  all  between  ; and  the  spirits  of  the  poor  whigs  so 
completely  cowed,  that  they  were  fairly  knocked  ui: 


UG 


THE  LIFE  OF 


der  to  the  civil  and  military  yoke  of  the  British: 
who,  I ask  again,  will  believe,  that  in  this  desperate 
state  of  things,  one  little,  swarthy,  French-phizzed 
Carolinian,  with  only  thirty  of  his  ragged  country- 
men, issuing  out  of  the  swamps,  should  have  dared 
to  turn  his  horse's  head  towards  this  all  conquering 
foe  ? 

Well,  Marion  was  that  man.  He  it  was,  who,  with 
his  feeble  force,  dared  to  dash  up  at  once  to  Nelson’s 
ferry,  on  the  great  war  path  between  the  British  ar- 
mies at  Charleston  and  Camden. 

“ Now,  my  gallant  friends,”  said  he,  at  sight  of  the 
road,  and  with  a face  burning  for  battle,  “ now  look 
sharp  ! here  are  the  British  wagon  tracks,  with  the 
sand  still  falling  in  ! and  here  are  the  steps  of  their 
troops  passing  and  repassing.  We  shall  not  long  be 
idle  here  !” 

And  so  it  turned  out.  For  scarcely  had  we  reached 
our  hiding  place  in  the  swamp,  before  in  came  our 
scouts  at  half  speed,  stating  that  a British  guard,  with 
a world  of  American  prisoners,  were  on  their  march 
for  Charleston. 

a How  many  prisoners  do  you  suppose  therf 
were  ?”  said  Marion. 

u Near  two  hundred,”  replied  the  scouts. 

“And  what  do  you  imagine  was  the  number  of  the 
British  guard  ?” 

u Why,  sir,  we  counted  about  ninety.” 

“ Ninety  !”  said  Marion  with  a smile  ; u ninety  ! 
Well,  that  will  do.  And  now,  gentlemen,  if  you  will 
only  stand  by  me,  I’ve  a good  hope  that  we  thirty 
will  have  those  ninety  by  to-morrow’s  sunrise.” 

We  told  him  to  lead  on,  for  that  we  were  resolved 
to  die  by  his  side. 

Soon  as  the  dusky  night  came  on,  we  went  down  to 
the  ferry,  and  passing  for  a party  of  good  loyalists* 
ye  easily  got  set  over.  The  enemy,  with  their  prison- 
ers, having  just  effected  the  passage  of  the  river  as 
the  sun  went  down,  halted  at  the  first  tavern,  gtme 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


11: 


rally  called  “ the  Blue  House,”  where  the  officers  or- 
dered supper.  In  front  of  the  building,  was  a large 
arbour,  w herein  the  topers  were  wont  to  sit,  and  spend 
the  jocund  night  away  in  songs  and  gleeful  draughts 
of  apple  brandy  grog.  In  this  arbour,  flushed  with 
their  late  success,  sat  the  British  guard ; and  tickler 
after  tickler  swilling,  roared  it  away  to  the  tune  of 
“ Britannia  strike  home  till  overcome  with  fatigue, 
and  the  opiate  juice,  down  they  sunk,  deliciously 
beastified,  to  the  ground. 

Just  as  the  cock  had  winded  his  last  horn  for  day, 
we  approached  the  house  in  perfect  concealment,  be- 
hind a string  of  fence,  within  a few  yards  of  it.  But 
in  spite  of  all  our  address,  we  could  not  effect  a com- 
plete surprisal  of  them.  Their  sentinels  took  the 
alarm,  and  firing  their  pieces,  fled  into  the  yard.  Swift 
as  lightning  wre  entered  with  them,  and  seizing  their 
muskets,  which  were  all  stacked  near  the  gate,  we 
made  prisoners  of  #ie  whole  party,  without  having 
bg.eil  obliged  to  kiir  more  than  three  of  them. 

^Had  Washington  and  his  whole  army  been  upon 
the  survivors,  they  could  hardly  have  roared  out 
louder  for  quarter.  After  securing  their  arms,  Ma- 
rion called  for  their  captain ; but  he  was  not  to  be 
found,  high  nor  lowr,  among  the  living  or  dead. 
However,  after  a hot  search,  he  wras  found  up  the 
chimney  ! He  begged  very  hard  that  we  would  not 
let  his  men  know  where  he  had  concealed  himself. 
Nothing  could  equal  the  fortification  of  the  British, 
when  they  came  to  seevryyh^  a handful  of  militia-men 
had  taken  them,  and  r&8vered  all  their  prisoners. 

Marion  was  at  first  In  high  hopes,  that  the  Ameri- 
can regulars,  whom  he  had  so  gallantly  rescued,  wrould, 
to  a man,  have  joined  his  arms,  and  fought  hard  to 
avenge  their  late  defeat.  But  equally  to  his  surprise 
and  their  own  disgrace,  not  one  of  them  could  be  pre- 
vailed on  to  shoulder  a musket ! u Where  is  the  use,” 
said  they,  u of  fighting  now,  when  ail  is  lost  ?” 

This  wras  the  general  impression.  And  indee<l, 


/ 


T 18 


THE  LIFE  OF 


except  these  unconquerable  spirits,  Marion  and 
Sumpter,  with  a few  others  of  the  same  heroic  stamp, 
who  kept  the  field,  Carolina  was  no  better  than  a 
British  province. 

In  our  late  attack  on  the  enemy,  we  had  but  four 
rounds  of  powder  and  bail ; and  not  a single  sword 
that  deserved  the  name.  But  Marion  soon  remedied 
that  defect.  He  bought  up  all  the  old  saw  blades 
from  the  mills,  and  gave  them  to  the  smiths,  who 
presently  manufactured  for  us  a parcel  of  substantial 
broadswords,  sufficient,  as  I have  often  seen,  to  kill 
a man  at  a single  blow. 

From  our  prisoners  in  the  late  action,  we  got  com- 
pletely armed  ; a couple  of  English  muskets,  with 
bayonets  and  cartouch-boxes,  to  each  of  us,  with 
which  we  retreated  into  Britton’s  Neck. 

We  had  not  been  there  above  twenty-four  hours 
before  the  news  was  brought  us  by  a trusty  friend \ 
that  the  tories,  on  Pedee,  were  mustering,  in  force, 
under  a captain  Barfield.  This,  as  we  learnt  after- 
wards, was  one  of  the  companies  that  my  uncle’s  old 
coachman  had  been  so  troubled  about.  We  were 
quickly  on  horseback;  and  after  a brisk  ride  of  fort) 
miles,  came  upon  their  encampment,  at  three  o’clo 
in  the  morning.  Their  surprise  was  so  complete,  that 
they  did  not  fire  a single  shot ! Of  forty-nine  r.en 
who  composed  their  company,  we  killed  and  took 
about  thirty.  The  arms,  ammunition,  and  horses,  of 
the  whole  party,  fell  into  our  hands,  with  which  we 
returned  to  Britton’s  Neck,  without  the  loss  of  a 
man. 

The  rumour  of  these  two  exploits  soon  reached  the 
British  and  their  friends  the  tories,  who  presently 
despatched  three  stout  companies  to  attack  us.  Two 
of  the  parties  were  British  ; one  of  them  commanded 
by  major  Weymies,  of  house-burning  memory.  The 
third  party  were  altogether  tories.  We  fled  before 
them  towards  North  Carolina.  Supposing  they  had 
entirely  scooted  us,  they  gave  over  the  chase,  and  re- 


GEN,  FRANCIS  MARION. 


119 


treated  for  their  respective  stations ; the  British  to 
Georgetown,  and  the  tories  to  Black  Mingo.  Learn- 
ing this,  from  the  swift  mounted  scouts  whom  he  al- 
ways kept  close  hanging  upon  their  march,  Marion 
ordered  us  to  face  about,  and  dog  them  to  their  en- 
campment, which  we  attacked  with  great  fury.  Our 
fire  commenced  on  them  at  but  a short  distance,  and 
with  great  effect ; but  outnumbering  us,  at  least  two 
to  one,  they  stood  their  ground  and  fought  despe- 
rately. But  losing  their  commander,  and  being  hard 
pressed,  they  at  length  gave  way,  and  fled  in  the  ut- 
most precipitation,  leaving  upwards  of  two-thirds  of 
their  number,  killed  and  wounded,  on  the  ground. — 
The  surprise  and  destruction  of  the  tories  would 
have  been  complete,  had  it  not  been  for  the  alarm 
given  by  our  horses’  feet  in  passing  Black  Mingo 
bridge,  near  which  they  were  encamped.  Marion 
never  afterwards  suffered  us  to  cross  a bridge  in  the 
night,  until  we  had  first  spread  our  blankets  on  it,  to 
prevent  noise. 

This  third  exploit  of  Marion  rendered  his  name 
very  dear  to  the  poor  whigs , but  utterly  abominable 
to  the  enemy,  particularly  the  tories,  who  were  so 
terrified  at  this  last  handling,  that,  on  their  retreat, 
they  would  not  halt  a moment  at  Georgetown, 
though  twenty  miles  from  the  field  of  battle ; but- 
continued  their  flight,  not  thinking  themselves  safe, 
until  they  had  got  Santee  river  between  him  and 
them. 

These  three  spirited  charges,  having  cost  us  a great 
deal  of  rapid  marching  and  fatigue,  Marion  said  he 
would  give  us  u a little  rest”  So  he  led  us  down  into 
W accamaw,  where  he  knew  we  had  some  excellent 
friends;  among  whom  were  the  Hugers  andTrapiers, 
and  Alstons  ; fine  fellows!  rich  as  Jews,  and  hearty 
as  we  could  wish  : indeed  the  wealthy  captain,  now- 
colonel  William  Alston,  was  one  of  Marion’s  aids. 

These  great  people  all  received  us  as  though  we 
had  been  their  brothers,  threw  open  the  gates  of  their 


120 


THE  LIFE  OF 


elegant  yards  for  our  cavalry,  hurried  us  up  their 
princely  steps ; and,  notwithstanding  our  dirt  and 
rags,  ushered  us  into  their  grand  saloons  and  dining 
rooms,  where  the  famous  mahogany  sideboards  were 
quickly  covered  with  pitchers  of  old  amber  coloured 
brandy,  and  sugar  dishes  of  double  refined,  with  honey, 
for  drams  and  juleps.  Our  horses  were  up  to  the 
eyes  in  corn  and  sweet-scented  fodder ; while,  as  to 
ourselves,  nothing  that  air,  land,  or  water  could  fur- 
nish, was  good  enough  for  us.  Fish,  flesh,  and  fowl, 
all  of  the  fattest  and  finest , and  sweetly  graced  with 
the  smiles  of  the  great  ladies,  were  spread  before  us, 
as  though  we  had  been  kings  : while  Congress  and 
Washington  went  round  in  sparkling  bumpers,  from 
old  demijohns  that  had  not  left  the  garret  for  many  a 
year. 

This  was  feasting  indeed  ! It  was  a feasting  of  the 
soul  as  well  as  of  the  sense.  To  have  drawn  the 
sword  for  liberty  and  dear  country’s  sake,  was,  of 
itself,  no  mean  reward  to  honest  republicans ; but, 
beside  that,  to  be  so  honoured  and  caressed,  by  the 
great  ones  of  the  land,  was  like  throwing  the  zone  of 
Venus  over  the  waist  of  Minerva,  or  like  crowning 
profit  with  pleasure,  and  duty  with  delight. 

In  consequence  of  the  three  fortunate  blows  which 
he  had  lately  struck,  Marion,  as  before  observed,  was 
getting  the  enviable  honour  to  be  looked  up  to  as  the 
rallying  point  of  the  poor  whigs ; insomuch,  that  al- 
though afraid  as  mice  to  stir  themselves,  yet,  if  they 
found  out  that  the  tories  and  British  were  any  where 
forming  encampments  about  the  country,  they  would 
mount  their  boys  and  push  them  off  to  Marion  to  let 
him  know.  Here  I must  give  the  reader  an  instance, 
on  the  spot. 

We  had  just  got  ourselves  well  braced  up  again,  by 
rest  and  high  feeding,  among  the  noble  whigs  of 
Waccamaw,  when  a likely  young  fellow  at  half  speed 
drove  up  one  morning  to  the  house,  and  asked  for 
general  Marion. 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


1M 


Marion  went  to  the  door. 

44  Well,  my  son,  what  do  you  want  with  me  ?” 

44  Why,  sir  general,”  replied  the  youth,  44  daddy 
sent  me  down  to  let  you  know,  as  how  there  is  to  be 
a mighty  gathering  of  the  tories,  in  our  parts,  to-mor- 
row night.” 

u Aye  indeed  ! and  pray  whereabouts,  my  son,  may 
your  parts  be  ?” 

44  Heigh,  sir  general  ! don’t  you  know  where  our 
parts  is  ? I thought  every  body  knowed  where  daddy 
lives.” 

44  No,  my  son,  I don’t;  but,  I’ve  a notion  he  lives 
somewhere  on  Pedee  ; perhaps  a good  way  up.” 

44  Yes,  by  jing,  does  he  live  a good  way  up  ! a mat- 
ter of  seventy  miles ; clean  away  up  there,  up  on  Little 
Pedee.” 

44  Very  well,  my  son,  I thank  your  daddy,  and  you 
too,  for  letting  me  know  it.  And,  I believe,  I must 
try  to  meet  the  tories  there.” 

44  O la,  sir  general,  try  to  meet  ’em  \ indeed / yes,  to 
be  sure  ! dear  me,  sirs,  hearts  alive,  that  you  must  sir  y 
general  ! for  daddy  says,  as  how,  he  is  quite  sartin,  if 
you’ll  be  there  to-morrow  night,  you  may  make  a pro- 
per smash  among  the  tories  ; for  they’ll  be  there  thick 
and  threefold.  They  have  heard,  so  they  say,  of  your 
doings , and  are  going  to  hold  this  great  meeting,  on 
purpose  to  come  all  the  way  down  here  after  you” 

44  After  me  ?” 

44  Yes,  indeed  are  they,  sir  general ! and  you  had 
better  keep  a sharp  look  out,  I tell  you  now ; for  they 
have  just  been  down  to  the  British,  there  at  George- 
town, and  brought  up  a matter  of  two  wagon  loads  of 
guns ; great  big  English  muskets ! I can  turn  mv 
thumb  in  them  easy  enough  ! And,  besides  them 
plaguy  guns,  they  have  got  a tarnal  nation  sight  of 
pistols  ! and  bagonets  ! and  swords ! and  saddles  ! 
and  bridles  ! and  the  dear  knows  what  else  besides  ! 
so  they  are  in  a mighty  good  fix,  you  may  depend, 
sir  general.” 

l 


122 


THE  LIFE  OF 


w Well,  perhaps  you  and  I may  have  some  of  their 
fine  things  to-morrow  night.  What  say  you  to  it,  my 
son  ?” 

“ By  jing,  I should  like  it  proper  well ! But,  to  be 
sure,  now,  sir  general,  you  look  like  a mighty  small 
man  to  fight  them  great  big  tories  there,  on  Pedee. 
But  daddy  says  as  how  the  heart  is  all : and  he  says, 
too,  that  though  you  are  but  a little  man,  you  have  a 
monstrous  great  heart.” 

Marion  smiled,  and  went  out  among  his  men,  to 
whom  he  related  the  boy’s  errand ; and  desired  them 
to  question  him,  so  that  there  might  be  no  trick  in  the 
matter.  But  every  scruple  of  that  sort  was  quickly 
removed  ; for  several  of  our  party  were  well  acquaint- 
ed with  the  lad’s  father,  and  knew  him  to  be  an  ex- 
cellent whig. 

Having  put  our  firearms  in  prime  order  for  an  at- 
tack, we  mounted ; and  giving  our  friends  three 
cheers,  dashed  off*,  just  as  the  broad-faced  moon 
arose  ; and  by  daybreak  next  morning,  had  gained  a 
very  convenient  swamp,  within  ten  miles  of  the  grand 
tory  rendezvous.  To  avoid  giving  alarm,  we  struck 
into  the  swamp,  and  there,  man  and  horse,  lay  snug 
all  day.  About  eleven  o’clock,  Marion  sent  out  a 
couple  of  nimble-footed  young  men,  to  conceal  them- 
selves near  the  main  road,  and  take  good  heed  to 
what  was  going  on.  In  the  evening  they  returned 
and  brought  word,  that  the  road  had  been  constantly 
alive  with  horsemen,  tories  they  supposed,  armed 
with  new  guns,  and  all  moving  on  very  gaily  towards 
the  place  the  lad  had  told  us  of.  Soon  as  it  was 
dark,  we  mounted,  and  took  die  track  at  a sweeping 
gallop,  which,  by  early  supper  time,  brought  us  in 
sight  of  their  fires.  Then  leaving  our  horses  under 
a small  guard,  we  advanced  quite  near  them,  in  the 
dark,  without  being  discovered;  for  so  little  thought 
had  4hey  of  Marion,  that  they  had  not  placed  a single 
sentinel  ; but  were,  all  hands,  gathered  about  the 

e — some  cooking,  some  fiddling  and  dancing,  and 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


193 


some  playing  cards,  as  we  could  hear  them  every 
now  and  then  bawling  out,  w Huzza , at  him  again , 
damme  ! aye , that's  the  dandy  l My  trick , begad l” 

Poor  wretches,  little  did  they  think  how  near  the 
fates  were  grinning  around  them. 

Observing  that  they  had  three  large  fires,  Marion 
divided  our  little  party  of  sixty  men  into  three  com* 
panies,  each  opposite  to  a fire,  then  bidding  us  to  take 
aim,  with  his  pistol  he  gave  the  signal  for  a general 
discharge.  In  a moment  the  woods  were  ail  in  a blaze, 
as  by  a flash  of  lightning,  accompanied  by  a tremen- 
dous clap  of  thunder.  Down  tumbled  the  dead  ; off 
bolted  the  living;  loud  screamed  the  wounded;  while 
far  and  wide,  all  over  the  woods,  nothing  was  to  be 
heard  but  the  running  of  tories,  and  the  snorting  of 
wild  bounding  horses,  snapping  the  saplings.  Such  a 
tragi-comedy  was  hardly  ever  seen.  On  running  up 
to  their  fires,  we  found  we  had  killed  twenty-three, 
and  badly  wounded  as  many  more  ; thirteen  we  made 
prisoners ; poor  fellows  who  had  not  been  grazed  by 
a bullet,  but  were  so  frightened  that  they  could  not 
budge  a peg.  We  got  eighty- four  stand  of  arms,  chiefly 
English  muskets  and  bayonets,  one  hundred  horses, 
with  new  saddles  and  bridles,  all  English  too,  with  a 
good  deal  of  ammunition  and  baggage.  The  conster- 
nation of  the  tories  was  so  great  that  they  never 
dreamt  of  carrying  off  any  thing.  Even  their  fiddles 
and  fiddle  bows,  and  playing  cards,  were  all  left 
strewed  around  their  fires.  One  of  the  gamblers,  (it 
is  a serious  truth)  though  shot  dead,  still  held  the 
cards  hard  griped  in  his  hands.  Led  by  curiosity  to 
inspect  this  strange  sight,  a dead  gambler,  we  found 
that  the  cards  which  he  held  were  ace,  deuce,  and 
jack.  Clubs  were  trumps.  Holding  high,  low,  jack, 
and  the  game,  in  hk  own  hand,  he  seemed  to  be  in  a 
fair  way  to  do  well ; but  Marion  came  down  upon 
him  with  a trump  that  spoiled  his  sport,  and  non- 
suited him  for  ever. 

But  the  most  comfortable  sight  of  all,  was  the  fine 


124 


THE  LIFE  OF 


supper  which  the  tories  had  cooked  ! three  fat  roasted 
pigs,  and  six  turkeys,  with  piles  of  nice  journey-cakes. 
’Tis  true,  the  dead  bodies  lay  very  thick  round  the 
fires:  but  having  rode  seventy  miles,  and  eating  no- 
thing since  the  night  before,  we  were  too  keen  set  to 
think  of  standing  on  trifles ; so  fell  upon  the  poor 
tories’  provisions,  and  made  the  heartiest  supper  in 
the  world.  And,  to  crown  all,  we  found  among  the 
spoil,  upwards  of  half  a barrel  of  fine  old  peach 
brandy. 

u Ah,  this  brand}' !’’  said  Marion,  “ was  the  worst 
foe  these  poor  rogues  ever  had.  But  I’ll  take  care  it 
shall  be  no  foe  to  us.”  So,  after  ordering  half  a pint 
to  each  man,  he  had  the  balance  put  under  guard. 
And  I must  observe,  by  way  of  justice  to  my  honour- 
ed friend,  that  success  never  seemed  to  elate  him ; 
nor  did  ever  he  lose  sight  of  safety  in  the  blaze  of 
victory.  For  instantly  after  the  defeat,  our  guns  were 
all  loaded  and  our  sentinels  set,  as  if  an  enemy  had 
been  in  force  in  the  neighbourhood. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

The  w nigs  in  high  spirits  on  account  of  our  successes — 
an  express  from  Governor  Rutledge — promotions — 
British  and  tories  in  great  wrath — sketch  of  their 
treatment  of  the  patriots. 

THE  news  of  this  fourth  overthrow  of  the  enemy, 
was  soon  spread  far  and  wide  among  both  our  friends 
and  foes  ; producing  every  where  the  liveliest  emo- 
tions of  joy  or  sorrow,  according  as  the  hearers  hap- 
pened to  be  well  or  ill  affected  towards  us.  The  im- 
pression which  it  made  on  our  honoured  executive, 
was  sweeter  to  our  thoughts  than  honey  or  the  honey- 
comb. For  on  the  fifth  day  after  our  last  flagellation 
of  the  tories,  in  came  an  express  from  governor  Rut- 
ledge, with  a commission  of  brigadier  general  for  Ma- 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


125 


non,  and  a full  colonel’s  commission  for  me.  Having 
always  looked  up  to  my  country  as  to  a beloved  mou- 
ther, whose  liberty  and  prosperity  were  inseparably 
connected  with  my  own,  it  is  no  wonder  that  I should 
have  been  so  delighted  at  hearing  her  say,  by  her  fa- 
vourite son,  governor  Rutledge,  that,  reposing  especial 
trust  in  my  courage , conduct , and  attention  to  her  in- 
terests, she  had  appointed  me  a colonel  in  her  armies , 
& c.  &c. 

Scarcely  had  I perused  my  commission,  before  Ma- 
rion reached  me  his  ; and  with  a smile,  desired  me  to 
read  it.  Soon  as  I came  to  his  new  title,  “ brigadier 
general,”  I snatched  his  hand  and  exclaimed, u Huzza! 
God  save  my  friend  ! my  noble  General  Marion  ! 
general  l general!  Aye  that  will  do ! that  will  do!  that 
sounds  somewhat  in  unison  with  your  deserts.” 

“ Well,  but  what  do  you  think  of  the  style”  replied 
he,  w and  of  the  prerogative — is  it  not  prodigiously  in 
the  pompous  ?” 

“ Not  at  all”  said  I. 

w No,”  continued  he  ; “ why  now  to  my  notion,  it  is 
very  much  in  the  turgid,  in  the  Asiatic.  I*  gives  me 
dominions  from  river  to  river,  and  from  the  mountains 
to  the  great  sea,  like  Tamerlane  or  Ghenghis  Khan  ; 
or  like  George  III.  4 by  the  grace  of  God , king  of 
Great  Britain , France,’  &c.  &c.  whereas,  poor 
George  dares  not  set  a foot  there,  even  to  pick  up  a 
periwinkle  !” 

44  Well,  but  general,”  said  I,  44  as  the  English  gave 
France  to  George  because  they  wish  him  to  have  it ; 
so  I suppose  the  good  governor  gives  you  this  vast 
district  for  the  same  reason.” 

44  Perhaps  sof  replied  Marion. 

The  truth  is,  governor  Rutledge  was  a most  ardent 
lever  of  his  country;  and,  therefore,  almost  adored 
such  an  unconquerable  patriot  as  Marion. 

Hence,  when  he  found,  that  notwithstanding  the 
many  follies  and  failures  of  northern  generals  and  ar- 
mies ; notwithstanding  the  victoiies,  and  proclama- 
L 2 


126 


THE  LIFE  OF 


tions,and  threats  of  Cornwallis  andTarleton,  Marion 
still  stood  his  ground,  and  fought  and  conquered  for 
Carolina;  his  whole  soul  was  so  filled  with  love  of 
him,  that  I verily  believe  he  would  have  given  him 
44  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth  and  the  glory  thereof,” 
had  they  been  in  his  gift.  Indeed  what  he  did  give 
nim  was  sketched  out  with  a prodigiously  bold  hand. 
He  gave  him  all  that  territory,  comprehended  within 
a line  drawn  from  Charleston  along  the  sea,  to  George- 
town ; thence  westerly  to  Camden  ; and  thence  to 
Charleston  again  ; making  a domain  of  extent,  po- 
pulation, and  wealth,  immense  ; but  over  which  the 
excellent  governor  had  no  more  power  to  grant  mili- 
tary jurisdiction,  than  to  give  kingdoms  in  the  moon  ; 
for  the  whole  of  it  was  in  the  hands  of  the  British, 
and  their  friends  the  tories ; so  that  the  governor  had 
not  a foot  to  give  Marion : nor  did  Marion  hold  a 
foot  of  it  but  by  his  own  vigilance  and  valour;  which 
were  so  extraordinary,  that  his  enemies,  with  all  their 
men,  money,  and  malice,  could  never  drive  him  out 
of  it. 

But  while  governor  Rutledge,  with  all  the  good 
whigs  of  the  state,  were  thus  heartily  rejoicing  with 
Marion  for  his  victories,  the  British  and  tories  were 
as  madly  gnashing  their  teeth  upon  him  for  the  same. 
To  be  struck  four  such  severe  blows,  in  so  short  a 
time,  and  all  rising  one  over  another  in  such  cursed 
climax  of  had  to  xvorse ; to  be  losing,  in  this  manner, 
their  dear  allies,  with  all  their  subsidies  of  arms,  am- 
munition, and  money;  to  have  their  best  friends  thus 
cooled  ; their  worst  enemies  thus  heated  ; and  rank 
rebellion  a*gain  breaking  up,  out  of  a soil  where  they 
had  promised  themselves  nothing  but  the  richest  fruits 
of  passi\  e obedience  : and  all  this  by  a little,  ugly 
spawn  of  a Frenchman  ! It  was  too  much  ! they  could 
not  stand  it.  Revenge  they  must  and  would  have ; 
that  was  certain  : and  since,  with  all  their  efforts,  they 
could  not  get  at  Marion,  the  hated  trunk  and  root  of 
all,  they  were  determined  to  burn  and  sweat  his 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


127 


branches,  the  poor  whigs,  i.  e.  to  carry  the  curses  of 
fire  and  sword  through  all  their  families  and  habita 
tions. 

Now,  had  this  savage  spirit  appeared  among  a few 
poor  British  cadets,  or  piney  wood  tories,  it  would  not 
have  been  so  lamentable.  Their  ignorance  of  those 
divine  truths,  which  exalt  the  soul  above  such  hellish 
passions,  would  have  furnished  some  plea  for  them. 
But,  that  a British  general,  and  that  general  a noble- 
man ! a lord  ! with  an  archbishop  for  his  brother,  and 
hot-pressed  bibles,  and  morocco  prayer  books,  and  all 
such  excellent  helps,  to  teach  him  that 44  God  is  love,” 
and  u mercy  his  delight ;”  that  such  a one,  I say, 
should  have  originated  the  infernal  warfare,  of  plun- 
dering, burning,  and  hanging  the  American  patriots, 
is  most  horrible.  And  yet,  if  possible,  more  true 
than  horrible.  Yes,  sure  as  the  day  of  doom,  when 
that  fearful  day  shall  come,  and  lord  Cornwallis,  stript 
of  his 44  brief  authority,”  shall  stand,  a trembling  ghost 
before  that  equal  bar  : then  shall  the  evil  spirit,  from 
the  black  budget  of  his  crimes,  snatch  the  following 
bloody  order , and  grinning  an  insulting  smile,  flash  it 
before  his  lordship’s  terrified  optics. 

August  18,  1780. 

To  lieutenant  colonel  Cruger , commandant  at  the  Bri - 
tish  garrison  at  Ninety-Six. 

Sir, 

I have  given  orders  that  all  the  inhabitants  of  this 
province,  who  had  submitted,  and  who  have  taken  a 
part  in  this  revolt,  shall  be  punished  xvith  the  greatest 
rigour  ; that  they  shall  be  imprisoned , and  their  whole 
property  taken  from  them  or  destroyed.  I have  like- 
wise directed,  that  compensation  should  be  made  out 
of  their  effects,  to  persons  who  have  been  plundered 
and  oppressed  by  them.  I have  ordered,  in  the  most 
positive  manner , that  every  militia-man  who  had 
borne  arms  with  us,  and  had  afterwards  joined  the 
enemy,  should  be  immediately  hanged.  I have  now 


128 


THE  LIFE  OF 


sir,  only  to  desire  that  you  will  take  the  most  vigor- 
ous measures  to  extinguish  the  rebellion  in  the  dis- 
trict which  you  command,  and  that  you  will  obey , in 
the  strictest  manner , the  directions  I have  given  in 
this  letter,  relative  to  the  treatment  of  this  country. 

This  order  of  lord  Cornwallis  proved  to  South  Ca- 
rolina like  the  opening  of  Pandora’s  box.  Instantly 
there  broke  forth  a torrent  of  cruelties  and  crimes 
never  before  heard  ol  in  our  simple  forests.  Lord" 
Rawdon  acted,  as  we  shall  see,  a shameful  part  in 
these  bloody  tragedies,  and  so  did  colonel  Tarleton. 
But  the  officer  who  figured  most  in  executing  the  de- 
testable orders  of  Cornwallis,  was  a major  Weymies. 
This  man  was,  by  birth,  a Scotsman  ; but,  in  princi- 
ple and  practice,  a Mohawk.  So  totally  destitute  was 
fee  of  that  amiable  sympathy  which  belongs  to  his 
nation,  that,  in  sailing  up  Winyaw  bay,  and  Wacca- 
maw  and  Pedee  rivers,  he  landed,  and  pillaged,  and 
burnt  every  house  he  durst  approach  ! Such  was  the 
style  of  liis  entry  upon  our  afflicted  state,  and  such  the 
spirit  of  his  doings  throughout : for  wherever  he  went, 
an  unsparing  destruction  awaited  upon  his  footsteps. 

Unhappily,  our  country  had  but  too  many  pupils 
that  fitted  exactly  such  a preceptor.  The  lazy,  dram- 
drinking, plunder-loving  tories,  all  gloried  in  major 
Weymies  : and  were  ever  ready,  at  the  winding  of 
his  horn,  to  rush  forth  with  him,  like  hungry  blood- 
hounds, on  his  predatory  excursions.  The  dogs  of 
hell  were  all  now  completely  uncoupled,  and  every 
devilish  passion  in  man  had  its  proper  game  to  fly  at. 
Here  was  a fine  time  for  malice  to  feed  her  ancient 
grudges ; for  avarice  to  cram  her  maw  with  plunder; 
and  revenge  to  pay  off  her  old  scores,  with  bloody 
interest. 

A thievish  tory,  who  had  been  publicly  whipped 
by  a whig  magistrate,  or  had  long  coveted  his  silver 
tankard,  or  his  handsome  rifle,  or  his  elegant  horse, 
had  but  to  point  out  his  house  to  major  Weymies, 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


129 


and  say,  “There  lives  a d — d rebel.”  The  amiable 
major  and  his  mvrmidons,  would  surround  the  noble 
building  in  a trice;  and  after  gutting  it  of  all  its  rich 
furniture,  would  reduce  it  to  ashes.  It  was  in  vain 
that  the  poor  delicate  mother  and  her  children,  on 
bended  knees,  with  wringing  hands  and  tear-swim- 
ming  eyes  implored  him  to  pity,  and  not  to  burn  their 
house  over  their  heads.  Such  eloquence,  which  has 
often  moved  the  breasts  of  savages,  was  all  lost  on 
major  Weymies  and  his  banditti.  They  no  more  re- 
garded the  sacred  cries  of  angel-watched  children 
than  the  Indians  do  the  cries  of  the  young  beavers, 
whose  houses  they  are  breaking  up. 

But,  oh,  joy  eternal ! w the  Lord  ts  king.”  His 
law  is  love,  and  they  who  sin  against  this  law,  soon  or 
late,  shall  find  that  they  have  sinned  against  their  own 
souls. 

A planter,  in  his  field’s,  accidentally  turning  towards 
his  house,  suddenly  discovers  a vast  column  of  smoke 
bursting  forth,  and  ascending  in  black  curling  volumes 
to  heaven,  “ Oh  my  God  ! my  house  !”  he  exclaims, 
“ my  poor  wife  and  children  !”  Then,  half  bereft  of 
his  senses,  he  sets  off  and  runs  towards  his  house. — 
Still,  as  he  cuts  the  air,  he  groans  out,  u Oh,  my  poor 
wife  and  children  !”  Presently  he  hears  their  cries  ; 
he  sees  them  at  a distance  with  outstretched  arms, 
flying  towards  him.  Oh,  pa!  pa!  pa!  his  children 
tremblingly  exclaim  ; while  his  wife,  all  pale  and  01C 
of  breath,  falls  on  his  bosom,  and,  feebly  crying  out 
“The  British  ! oh  the  British ,”  sinks  into  a swoon. 

Who  can  tell  the  feelings  of  the  father  and  the  hus- 
band ! His  wife  convulsed  in  his  arms  ! his  little  beg- 
gared children  screaming  around  him!  and  his  pro- 
perty all  sinking  to  ruin,  by  merciless  enemies  ! Pre- 
sently his  wife,  after  a strong  fit,  with  a deep  sigh, 
comes  to  herself ; he  wipes  her  teats ; he  embraces 
and  hushes  his  children.  By  and  by,  supposing  the 
British  to  be  gone,  arm  in  arm  the  mournful  group 
return.  But  ah,  shocking  sight!  their  once  stately 


130 


THE  LIFE  OF 


mansion  which  shone  so  beauteous  on  the  plain,  the 
pride  and  pleasure  of  their  eyes,  is  now  the  prey  of 
devouring  flames.  Their  slaves  have  all  disappeared  ; 
their  stock,  part  is  taken  away,  part  lies  bleeding  in 
the  yard,  stabbed  by  bayonets ; their  elegant  furniture, 
tables,  glasses,  clocks,  beds,  all  is  swallowed  up.  An 
army  of  passing  demons  could  have  done  no  worse. 
But  while  with  tearful  eye  they  are  looking  round  on 
the  wide-spread  ruin,  undermined  by  the  fire,  down 
comes  the  tall  building  with  thundering  crash  to  the 
ground.  The  frightened  mourners  start  aghast  from 
the  hideous  squelch,  and  weep  afresh  to  see  all  the 
hopes  and  glories  of  their  state  thus  suddenly  ended 
in  smoke  and  ashes. 

It  was  in  this  way  exactly  that  the  British  treated 
my  brother,  major  Hugh  Horry,  as  brave  a soldier  as 
ever  fought  in  America.  They  laid  in  ashes  all  his 
dwelling  houses,  his  barns  of  clean  rice,  and  even  his 
rice  stacks  ! Destroyed  his  cattle  ; carried  off  eighty 
negroes,  which  were  all  he  had,  not  leaving  him 
one  to  bake  him  a cake.  Thus,  in  one  hour,  as  the 
wild  Arabs  served  Job,  did  the  British  serve  my 
poor  brother,  breaking  him  up  root  and  branch  ; and, 
from  a state  of  affluence,  reduced  him  to  a dunghill. 

These  savage  examples,  first  set  by  the  British,  and 
followed  by  the  tories,  soon  produced  the  effect  which 
Marion  had  all  along  predicted.  They  filled  the  hearts 
of  the  sufferers  with  the  deadliest  hate  of  the  British  ; 
and  brought  them,  in  crowds,  to  join  his  standard, 
with  muskets  in  their  hands,  and  vows  of  revenge 
eternal  in  their  mouths. 

Hence  it  was  that  nothing  so  pleased  Marion  as  to 
hear  of  British  cruelty  to  his  countrymen. 

w ’Tis  a harsh  medicine he  used  to  say,  u but  it  is 
necessary ; for  there  is  nothing  else  that  will  work 
them . And  unless  they  are  well  worked  and  scoured 
of  their  mother  milk,  or  beastling  partiality  to  the 
English,  they  are  lost.  Our  country  is  like  a man  who 
uas  swallowed  a mortal  poison.  Give  him  an  anodyne 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


131 


to  keep  him  easy,  and  he’s  a dead  man . But  if  you 
can  only  knock  him  about,  and  so  put  the  poison  in 
motion  as  to  make  him  deadly  sick  at  the  stomach,  and 
heave  like  a dog  with  a bone  in  his  throat,  he  is  safe . 
Cornwallis  has  all  this  time  been  lulling  them  by  his 
proclamations , and  protections , and  lies . But,  thank 
God,  that  time  is  pretty  well  over  now  ; for  these  un- 
feeling monsters,  these  children  of  the  devil,  have  let 
out  the  cloven  foot,  and  the  thing  is  now  beginning  to 
work  as  I expected.  Our  long  deluded  people  are 
opening  their  eyes,  and  beginning  to  see  and  smell  the 
blood  and  burnings  of  that  Tophet , that  political  hell 
of  slavery  and  ruin,  to  which  the  British  army  is  now 
endeavouring,  by  murder  and  rapine,  to  reduce 
them.” 

This  was  truly  the  case  : for,  every  day  the  whigs 
were  coming  into  Marion’s  camp.  Those  who  were 
too  old  to  fight  themselves,  would  call  upon  their 
sturdy  boys  to  u turn  out  and  join  general  Marion .” 

It  was  diverting  to  see  how  they  would  come 
staving  upon  their  tackies  ; belted  round  with  their 
powderhorns  and  shotbags,  with  rifles  in  hand,  and 
their  humble  homespun  streaming  m the  air.  The 
finely  curling  smile  brightened  in  the  face  of  Ma- 
rion; and  his  eye  beamed  that  laughing  joy,  with 
which  a father  meets  his  thoughtless  boy,  returning 
dirty  and  beaten  by  blackguards,  from  whose  dan- 
gerous company  he  had  sought  in  vain  a thousand 
times  to  wean  him. 

“Well,  my  son!”  Marion  would  say,  “and  what 
good  news  do  you  bring  us  ?” 

“ Why,  why,  why,  sir  general,”  replies  the  youth, 
half  cocked  with  rage,  and  stammering  for  words, 
“ as  I was  overlooking  myTather’s  negroes  in  the  rice 
grounds,  the  British  and  tories  came  and  took  them 
and  carried  them  all  away  ; and  I only  am  left  alone 
to  tell  you.” 

Presently  another  comes  and  says : “ As  I was 
driving  the  horses  and  cattle  down  to  the  pasture, 


132 


THE  LIFE  OF 


the  British  and  tories  fell  upon  them,  and  carried 
them  all  away ; and  I alone  am  left  to  tell  you.” 
While  he  was  yet  speaking,  another  comes  and 
says  : “ The  British  and  tories  came  with  fire  and 
burnt  our  houses  and  goods,  and  have  driven  my 
mother  and  the  children  into  the  woods;  and  I only 
am  left  alone  to  tell  you.” 

Next  comes  another,  who  says : u My  father  and 
myself  were  ploughing  together  in  the  field,  and  the 
British  and  tories  came  upon  us  and  shot  my  father ! 
and  I only  am  left  alone  to  tell  you.” 

Another  comes  and  tells,  that  “ lord  Rawdon  is 
taking  the  whig  priscmers  every  week,  out  of  the  jail 
in  Camden,  and  hanging  them  up  by  half  dozens,  near 
the  windows,  like  dead  crows  in  a corn-field,  to  fright- 
en the  rest,  and  make  good  tories  of  them.” 

Another  states,  that  “ colonel  Charles  Pinckney, 
prisoner  in  Charleston,  for  striking  a couple  of  inso- 
lent negroes , was  cursed  by  the  British  officers  as  a 
d — d rebel , and  driven  with  kicks  and  blows  into  the 
house,  for  daring  to  strike  his  Britannic  Majesty's 
subjects /” 

Here  Marion  snapped  his  fingers  for  joy,  and  shout- 
ed, u Huzza  ! that's  right!  that's  right!  O my  noble 
Britons,  lay  on  ! lay  on  the  spaniels  stoutly ! they  want 
British  protections,  do  they  ? O the  rogues  ! show 
them  no  quarter,  but  give  it  to  them  handsomely! 
break  their  backs  like  dogs ! cut  them  over  the  face 
and  eyes  like  cats  ! bang  them  like  asses ! thank  ye  ! 
thank  ye,  Cornwallis  and  Rawdon  ! most  noble  lords, 
I thank  ye ! you  have  at  last  brought  the  wry  face 
upon  my  countrymen,  the  cold  sweat , the  sardonic 
grin . Thank  God ! the  potion  begins  to  work ! 
huzza,  my  sons  ! heave ! heave  ! aye,  there  comes  the 
bile ; the  atrabiliary ; the  black  vomiting  which  por- 
♦ ids  death  to  the  enemy.  Now  Britons,  look  to  your 
suips,  for  Carolina  will  soon  be  too  hot  to  hold  you.” 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


133 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Colonel  Tynes , the  famous  tory  partisan , attempts  to 
surprise  Marion — is  himself  surprised  and  taken , 
with  nearly  all  his  party — the  author , with  thirty 
choice  cavaliers , se/i?  Marion  to  reconnoitre — de- 
feat of  a British  party  af  horse — anecdote  of  Scotch 
Macdonald — surprise  arid  slaughter  of  the  tories — 
captain  Lewis  is  killed — anecdote  of  an  extraordi- 
nary lad . 

SOON  after  this  last  victory  on  Pedee,  Marion 
moved  clown  into  the  neighbourhood  of  Black  river  ; 
where  he  instantly  got  notice,  that  a large  body  ojl 
tories  under  the  celebrated  Col.  Tynes,  were  making 
great  preparations  to  attack  him.  This  Tynes  was  a 
man  of  valour  and  address  worthy  of  a better  cause. 
In  several  contests  with  the  whigs,  he  had  handled 
them  very  roughly  ; and  was  become  such  a terror  to 
the  friends  of  liberty  in  that  part  of  the  world,  that 
they  were  greatly  alarmed  on  finding  that  he  was 
mustering  all  his  forces  to  attack  Marion.  We  were 
scarcely  encamped,  before  three  expresses  arrived 
from  the  whig  settlements  on  Black  river,  stating 
colonel  Tynes’  movements ; and  advising  to  keep  a 
good  look  out , for  that  he  was  a very  artful  and  dan- 
gerous fellow.  According  to  their  conjectures,  colonel 
Tynes  must  have  had  no  less  than  one  hundred  and 
fifty  men:  our  number  did  not  quice  reach  ninety; 
but  they  were  all  volunteers,  and  exceedingly  chafed 
and  desperate  in  their  minds,  by  the  barbarous  usage 
of  the  British  and  tories.  Having,  by  this  day's 
march  of  fifty  miles,  got  within  twenty  miles  of  the 
enemy,  who  supposed  that  we  were  still  on  Pedee, 
Marion  instantly  resolved  to  attack  him  that  night. 
No  sooner  was  this  made  known  to  the  troops,  than 
the  fatigues  of  the  day  appeared  to  be  entirely  for- 
gotten. All  hands  fell  to  work,  currying,  rubbing  and 
feeding  their  horses,  like  young  men  preparing  for  U 
M 


134 


THE  LIFE  OF 


frail  or  barhacue.  Then  after  a hearty  supper  and  a 
few  hours’  sleep,  we  all  sprung  upon  our  chargers 
again,  and  dashed  off  about  one  o’clock,  to  try  our 
fortune  with  colonel  Tynes.  Just  before  day,  we  came 
upcn  the  enemy,  whom  we  found  buried  in  sleep. 
The  roar  of  our  guns  first  broke  their  slumbers ; and 
by  the  time  the  frightened  wretches  had  got  upon  their 
legs,  man  and  horse,  we  were  among  them  hewing 
down.  Three  and  thirty  fell  under  our  swords ; for- 
ty-six were  taken  ; the  rest,  about  sixty,  made  their 
escape.  Colonel  Tynes  himself,  with  upwards  of  one 
hundred  horses,  and  all  the  baggage,  fell  into  our 
hands. 

A day  or  two  after  this  victory,  the  general  order- 
ed me  to  take  captain  Baxter,  lieutenant  Postell,  and 
sergeant  Macdonald,  with  thirty  privates,  and  see  if  I 
could  not  gain  some  advantage  over  the  enemy  near 
the  lines  of  Georgetown.  About  midnight  we  cross- 
ed Black  river ; and,  pushing  on  in  great  silence 
through  the  dark  woods,  arrived  at  dawn  of  day  near 
the  enemy’s  sentries,  where  we  lay  in  ambush  close 
on  the  road.  Just  after  the  usual  hour  of  breakfast, 
a chair,  with  a couple  of  young  ladies,  ’squired  by  a 
brace  of  British  officers  elegantly  mounted,  came 
along  at  a sweeping  rate  from  Georgetown. 

They  had  not  passed  us  more  than  fifty  steps,  before 
they  stopped  short.  I w as  confoundedly  afraid  at  first 
that  they  had,  somehow  or  other,  smelt  a rat ; but  it 
turned  out,  as  v^e  afterwards  learned,  that  this  was 
only  a little  courting  party,  going  into  the  country  to 
dine.  On  getting  L.to  the  gloomy  vroods,  the  girls 
were  taken  with  a quaking  fit  for  their  sweethearts, 
test  that  vile  u swamp  fox,”  as  they  called  Marion, 
should  come  across  them.  Whereupon  the  halt  afore- 
said was  ordered,  and  a consultation  held  ; the  result 
of  which  was,  that  the  girls  should  go  on  to  their 
friend’s  house,  and  the  officers  back  to  town  for  a par- 
ty of  dragoons.  Accordingly  the  chair  proceeded,  and 
the  officers  galloped  back  by  us,  undisturbed  ; for  we 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


135 


did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  risk  an  alarm  for  the 
sake  of  a couple  of  officers.  Presently  beginning  to 
feel  very  hungry,  for  we  had  travelled  all  night  and 
eaten  nothing,  we  agreed  to  retire  to  the  house  of  a 
neighbouring  planter,  who  was  known  to  be  a good 
whig.  As  we  entered  the  yard,  what  should  we  see 
but  the  identical  chair  that  had  passed  us  a little  ho 
fore  ! — and  on  stepping  into  the  house,  behold  the 
very  same  young  ladies  ! They  were  richly  dressed, 
and  well  formed,  and  would  no  doubt  have  appeared 
nandsome,  but  for  the  hostile  passions  which  glared 
from  their  eyes,  and  gave  their  whole  physiognomy 
a fury-like  expression.  They  asked  us,  with  great 
pertness,  u what  business  we  had  there  ? The  gentle- 
man of  the  house,”  continued  they, 44  is  not  at  home, 
and  there  are  no  provisions  here  for  you,  and  to  be 
sure,  you  are  too  much  of  gentlemen  to  think  of 
frightening  a family  of  poor  helpless  women !” 

Happily  I made  no  reply;  for  while  these  young 
viragoes  were  catechising  us  at  this  rate,  I discover- 
ed with  much  pleasure,  that  the  lady  of  the  house 
did  not  utter  a word,  but  walked  the  room  backward 
and  forward  with  a smiling  countenance.  Presentlv 
she  went  out;  and  showingherself  at  an  opposite  win- 
dow, beckoned  me  to  come  to  her  ; when  she  said,  in 
a low  voice, 44  Go  back  into  the  house,  I’ll  be  there 
directly.  On  my  stepping  in  you  must  demand  pro- 
visions ; I will  deny  that  I have  any.  You  must  then 
get  into  a violent  passion,  and  swear  you  will  have 
them,  or  set  the  house  on  fire.  I will  then  throw 
down  the  keys,  and  you  can  take  just  what  you  want ; 
for  thank  God,  there  is  enough,  both  for  you  and 
your  horses.” 

Such  was  the  farce,  which  the  whigs  in  those  days, 
both  ladies  and  gentlemen,  wrere  obliged  to  play,  when 
they  had  any  of  their  tory  acquaintance  about  them. 
We  now  played  it,  and  with  the  desired  success ; for 
the  troughs  in  the  yard  were  all  presently  filled  with 
corn  and  fodder  for  our  cavalry ; while  for  ourselves. 


13(5 


THE  LIFE  OF 


the  good-natured  cook  wenches  soon  served  up  a most 
welcome  repast  of  fried  bacon  and  eggs,  with  nice 
hearth  cakes  and  butter  and  milk.  w God  be  praised,” 
said  we ; and  down  we  sat,  and  made  a breakfast,  of 
which  even  kings,  without  exercise  and  keen  appe- 
tites, can  form  no  idea. 

Just  as  we  had  got  completely  refreshed,  and  braced 
up  again,  what  should  we  hear  but  the  firing  of  our 
sentinels.  w To  horse!  to  horse!  my  brave  fellows  /” 
was  the  cry  of  one  and  all.  Quick  as  thought,  we 
were  all  mounted  and  formed,  when  in  came  our  sen- 
tinels, with  the  British  dragoons  hard  after  them, 
smack  up  to  the  fence.  Charge  boys,  charge  ! was 
the  word.  In  a moment  the  yard  was  bright  with  the 
shining  of  our  swords.  The  tory  girls  shrieked  out 
for  their  sweethearts—’ “Oh  the  British  ! the  British  ! 
murder!  murder!  Oh!”  Then  off  we  went,  all  at 
once,  in  solid  column.  The  enemy  took  to  their  heels, 
and  we  pursued.  Over  the  fence  we  bounded  like 
stags.  Down  the  hill  went  the  British.  Down  the 
hill  went  we;  helter-skelter,  man  and  horse, we  flew: 
roaring  through  the  woods  like  the  sound  of  distant 
thunder. 

We  were  all  excellently  mounted ; but  there  was 
no  horse  that  could  hold  the  way  with  Selim.  He 
was  the  hindmost  of  all  when  the  chase  began  ; and 
I wondered  at  first  what  had  become  of  Selim  ; but 
presently  I saw  him  and  Macdonald  coming  up  on  my 
right  like  a thundergust.  Indeed,  with  his  wide- 
spread nostrils,  and  long  extended  neck,  and  glaring 
eyeballs,  he  seemed  as  a flying  dragon  in  chase  of  his 
prey.  He  soon  had  his  master  up  with  the  enemy. 
I saw  when  Macdonald  drew  his  claymore.  The 
shining  of  his  steel  was  terrible,  as,  rising  on  his  stir- 
rups, with  high-lifted  arm,  he  waved  it  three  times 
in  fiery  circles  over  his  head,  as  if  to  call  up  all  his 
strength.  Then,  with  a voice  of  thunder,  he  poured 
his  charging  shout , dreadful  as  the  roar  of  the  lion 
when,  close  up  to  his  game,  with  hideous  paws  un- 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


1ST 

clenched,  he  makes  his  last  spring  on  the  fat  buffaloes 
of  his  chase. 

Though  their  mortal  enemy,  I could  not  but  pity 
the  poor  fugitives,  for  I saw  that  their  death  was  at 
hand.  One  of  the  British  officers  fired  a pistol  at 
him,  but  without  effect : before  he  could  try  another, 
he  was  cut  down  by  Macdonald.  After  this,  at  a 
blow  a piece,  he  sealed  the  eyes  of  three  dragoons 
in  lasting  sleep.  Two  fell  beneath  the  steel  of  the 
strong-handed  Snipes ; nor  did  my  sword  return 
bloodless  to  its  scabbard.  In  short,  of  the  whole 
party,  consisting  of  twenty-five,  not  a man  escaped^ 
except  one  officer,  who,  in  the  heat  of  the  chase 
and  carnage,  cunningly  shot  off,  at  right  angles,  for 
a swamp,  which  he  luckily  gained,  and  so  cleared 
himself. 

The  name  of  this  officer  was  Meriot,  and  as  finish* 
ed  a gentleman  he  was  too,  as  I ever  saw.  I got  ac- 
quainted with  him  after  the  war,  at  New  York.  Soon 
as  the  ceremony  of  introduction  was  over,  he  smiled, 
and  asked  if  I were  not  in  the  skirmish  just  related  ? 
On  being  answered  in  the  affirmative,  he  again  in- 
quired, if  I did  not  recollect  how  handsomely  one  of 
the  British  officers  gave  me  the  slip  that  day  ? I told 
him  I did.  u Well,”  continued  he,  w I was  that  offi- 
cer ; and  of  all  the  frights  I ever  had  in  my  life,  that 
was  the  most  complete.  Will  you  believe  me,  sir* 
when  I assure  you,  that  I went  out  that  morning,  with 
my  locks  of  as  bright  an  auburn  as  ever  curled  upon 
the  forehead  of  youth  ; and  by  the  time  I had  crawl- 
ed out  of  the  swamp,  into  .Georgetown,  that  night, 
they  were  as  gray  as  a badger ! I was  well  nigh 
taking  an  oath  never  to  forgive  you,  during  breath, 
for  frightening  me  so  confoundedly.  But,  away  with 
all  malice  ! let  it  go  to  the  devil,  where  it  belongs. 
So  come,  you  must  go  dine  with  me,  and  I’ll  show 
you  a lovelier  woman  than  either  of  those  that  rode 
in  tne  chair  that  day.” 

I went  with  him,  and  was  introduced  to  his  wife, 

M2 


f 30 


THE  LIFE  OF 


ft  lovely  woman  indeed  ! to  whom,  with  great  glee, 
he  related  the  whole  history  of  the  chase,  and  his  own 
narrow  escape,  and  then  laughed  very  heartily.  But 
not  so  his  gentle  partner.  For,  as  he  told  of  the 
shrill  whizzing  of  our  swords  close  behind  him,  and 
of  the  groans  of  his  dragoons  as  they  fell,  cut  down 
from  their  horses,  her  face  turned  pale,  and  pensive ; 
then,  looking  at  him  with  great  tenderness,  she  heaved 
a deep  sigh,  to  think  how  near  her  husband  had  been 
to  death. 

Meriot  looked  with  pleasure  on  the  troubled  coun- 
tenance of  his  lovely  wife,  because  he  well  knew  the 
fond  source  of  her  troubles.  Then,  snatching  up  a 
goblet  of  sangree,  richly  mantled  over  with  nutmeg, 
he  presented  it  to  her  ruby  lips,  saying,  “ Come,  my 
dear,  drink,  ancl  forget  the  past!”  Then,  taking  my 
hand  with  great  cordiality,  he  exclaimed,  “Well,  colo- 
nel Horry,  we  have  been  foes,  but  thank  God,  we  are 
good  friends  again.  And  now  let  me  drink  to  you  a 
sentiment  of  my  heart,  Here's  friendship  hi  marble , 
enmity  in  dust” 

The  behaviour  of  this  noble  Englishman,  has  often 
served  to  deepen  my  abhorrence  of  war,  which  too 
frequently  sets  those  to  cutting  each  other’s  throats, 
who  were  born  to  be  brothers. 

But  to  return  to  our  stoyy.  “ Meriot,”  you’ll  say, 
“ and  his  brother  officer,  brought  their  pigs  to  a bad 
market .”  Yes,  indeed:  but  not  a jot  worse  than  some 
of  their  friends  came  to  the  very  day  afterwards.  On 
the  morning  of  that  day,  Marion,  now  concealed  in 
the  swamps,  near  Georgetown,  was  pleased  to  order 
me  out  on  a second  excursion.  “Take  captain 
Fnipes,”  said  he,  “ with  thirty  men,  and  proceed 
down  the  Sandpit  road,  in  quest  of  the  enemy.  The 
moment  you  discover  them,  whether  British  or  lo- 
ries, charge  with  spirit,  and  I’ll  warrant  your  suc- 
cess.” z 

As  we  approached  the  bridge,  still  moving  on  very 
circumspectly,  ir.  the  woods,  we  discovered  at  a short 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


139 


distance,  a body  of  horsemen,  perhaps  a hundred,  ap- 
parently in  great  confusion,  and  very  anxious  to  form. 
Instantly  we  took  the  road,  and  clapping  spurs  to  our 
horses,  dashed  upon  them  at  full  speed,  at  the  same 
time  shouting  as  we  rushed  on.  The  enemy  broke 
and  fled  in  all  directions.  W e pursued.  Then  you 
might  have  seen  the  woods  all  covered  with  armed 
men;  some  flying,  others  pursuing;  and  with  muskets, 
and  pistols,  and  swords,  shooting  and  cutting  down 
as  fast  as  they  could. 

From  the  unevenness  of  the  ground,  and  rapidity  of 
the  charge,  my  men  were  all  soon  out  of  sight,  leav- 
ing with  me  but  a lad  of  fourteen,  named  Gwinn,  who 
carried  a musket.  At  that  instant,  a party  of  nine  or 
ten  men  were  seen  advancing,  whom  I took  for  whigs, 
and  challenged  as  such,  asking  if  they  were  not  friends  ? 
“ Friends  ! O yes  !”  replied  their  captain,  (one  Lewis) 
u friends  to  be  sure  ; friends  to  king  George !” 

Quick  as  thought,  off*  went  Gwinn’s  musket,  close 
by  my  side,  and  down  tumbled  captain  Lewis  from 
his  horse,  with  a heavy  squelch,  to  the  ground.  But 
in  the  very  instant  of  receiving  his  death,  his  musket, 
which  was  raised  to  kill  me,  took  fire  and  shot  my 
horse  dead  on  the  spot.  Seeing  my  horse  drop,  Gwinn 
dismounted,  and  led  his  horse  up  to  me  in  a moment. 

Happily  for  us  both,  captain  Snipes  heard  the  re- 
port of  our  pieces,  and  thinking  that  we  might  be  in 
danger,  dashed  on  to  our  aid,  with  several  of  my 
troop, 'whooping  and  huzzaing  as  they  came  on.  The 
tory  party  then  fired  at  us,  but  without  effect,  and  fled, 
leaving  four  of  Marion’s  men,  whom  they  had  just 
taken,  and  beaten  very  barbarously  with  the  butts  of 
their  muskets. 

This  was  a fatal  day  to  the  tories,  who  must  have 
lost  more  than  half  their  number.  For  I had  with  me 
not  only  Macdonald  and  Snipes,  but  several  other 
very  strong  and  brave  men*  whose  families  had  suf- 
fered very  severely,  by  British  and  tory  cruelty ; and, 
I am  afraid,  they  did  not  forget  this,  when  theii 


UO 


THE  LIFE  OF 


swords  were  hanging  over  the  heads  of  the  fugitives. 
At  any  rate,  they  took  but  few  prisoners. 

In  the  course  of  this  day’s  fighting,  there  happened 
an  affair  which  served  to  amuse  us  not  a little  on  our 
return  to  our  camp  that  night.  The  tories,  who,  from 
time  to  time  had  fallen  into  our  hands,  were  often 
easing  their  vexation,  by  saying,  that  it  was  true, 
44  Marion  had  proved  too  cunning  for  colonel  Tynes 
and  captain  Barfield,  and  other  British  and  loyal  offi- 
cers, whom  he  had  attacked  ; but  that  there  was  still 
one  left  behind,  who,  they  were  sure,  if  he  could 
come  forward,  would  soon  show  us  quite  a different 
sort  of  play;  and  that  was  colonel  Gainey,  from  the 
hfcad  waters  of  Pedee.”  We  answered,  that  it  was 
all  very  well ; and  that  we  should  be  glad  to  see  colo- 
nel Gainey.  Now,  as  God  was  pleased  to  have  it, 
who  should  it  be,  that  with  one-third  of  his  number, 
we  had  been  chasing  so  to-day,  hut  colonel  Gainey  ; 
a stout  officer-looking  fellow  he  was  too,  and  most 
nobly  mounted.  Macdonald  made  a dash  at  him,  in 
full  confidence  of  getting  a gallant  charger.  But  the 
good  book  tells  us,  that 44  the  race  is  not  always  to  the 
swift and  owing  partly  to  the  fleetness  of  his  horse, 
and  partly  to  a most  extraordinary  sort  of  accident, 
colonel  Gainey  made  his  escape  from  our  Scotsman. 
The  chase  was  towards  Georgetown,  distant  little 
more  than  two  miles.  Never  on  earth  did  two  horses 
or  horsemen  make  greater  exertions.  Fear  impelling 
the  one,  fury  urging  the  other.  Macdonald  declared, 
that  in  the  chase  he  passed  several  tories  whom  he 
could  easily  have  cut  down,  but  like  the  lion  in  pur- 
suit of  a favourite  buffalo,  he  took  no  notice  of  them. 
His  eye  was  fixed  on  colonel  Gainey.  Just  as  they 
turned  Richmond  corner,  Selim  had  brought  his  mas- 
ter near  enough  to  his  prey  to  make  a stroke  at  him 
with  his  bayonet.  By  a sudden  jerk,  it  is  supposed, 
the  weapon  turned ; so  that  when  Macdonald  cjrew 
back  the  carbine,  he  left  the  bayonet  up  to  the  hilt  in 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


14i 


nis  back.  In  this  way  colonel  Gainey  rode  into  town, 
prodigiously  to  his  own  and  the  mortification  of  his 
friends  the  British  and  tories. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Spirit  of  the  tories — assassination  of  lieutenant  Marion 
— the  murderer  murdered — Mariorts  reflections  on 
the  death  of  his  nephew — his  manner  of  rewarding 
extraordinary  courage  among  his  men — sketch  of  the 
brave  boy  Gzi  nn . 

“If  mortal  hands  tliy  peace  destroy. 

Or  friendship’s  gifts  bestow, 

W lit  thou  to  man  ascribe  the  joy, 

T o man  impute  the  wo  ? 

“ ’Tis  GOD,  whose  thoughts  for  wisest  ends. 

The  human  lots  dispose; 

Around  thee  plants  assisting  friends, 

Or  heaps  chastising  foes. 

“Not  from  the  bow  the  deaths  proceed. 

But  from  the  Archer's  skill, 

He  lends  the  winged  shaft  its  speed. 

And  gives  it  power  to  kill.” 

AND  here  I must  relate  a tragical  affair  that  befll 
us  that  day,  and  which  filled  us  all  with  grief,  because 
of  our  beloved  general.  I mean  the  barbarous  murder 
of  his  nephew.  Of  all  men  who  ever  drew  the  sword, 
Marion  was  one  of  the  most  humane.  He  not  only 
prevented  all  cruelty,  in  his  own  presence,  but  strictly 
forbade  it  in  his  absence.  I have  known  him  to  talk 
for  a quarter  of  an  hour  together,  with  one  of  his  men, 
for  striking  over  the  head,  a horse  that  had  started  ; 
and  to  punish  another  for  taking  away  from  a negro, 
his  ragged  chicken.  To  reason  then  like  men,  one 
would  suppose  that  he  was  the  last  person  on  whom 


142 


THE  LIFE  OF 


such  a cruel  blow  as  the  murder  of  a favourite  nephew 
should  have  fallen.  But  thanks  to  God,  for  that  most 
comfortable  doctrine,  that  not  even  a sparrow  can  die 
until  his  death-warrant  has  been  signed  in  heaven  : 
and,  since  this  young  man  did  die  at  that  time,  there 
can  be  no  doubt  but  that  was  the  right  time. 

The  manner  of  his  death  was  this.  We  have  told 
the  reader,  that,  in  the  course  of  this  day’s  fighting, 
we  retook  from  the  tories  four  of  Marion’s  men,  whom 
they  had  very  barbarously  beaten  with  the  butts  of 
their  guns.  On  being  asked  how  they  came  to  fall 
into  such  bad  company,  they  said,  that  immediately 
after  sending  me  off,  in  the  morning,  Marion  got  in- 
formation that  a party  of  tories  we  e encamped  not 
far  distant,  on  a plantation  of  colone*  Alston’s,  called 

u The  Penns.”  Captain  M was  despatched  to 

surprise  them ; but  he  played  his  cards  so  badly,  that, 
instead  of  surprising  them , they  surprised  him , killed 
several  of  his  men,  and  took  the  others.  Among  the 
prisoners  was  the  general’s  nephew,  lieutenant  Gabriel 
Marion,  of  the  continentals,  who,  happening  at  that 
time  on  a visit  to  his  uncle,  turned  out  a volunteer, 
and  was  taken.  The  tories  murdered  several  of  their 
unfortunate  prisoners  in  cold  blood,  by  first  beating 
them  over  the  head  with  the  butts  of  their  muskets, 
and  then  shooting  them.  They  said  that  lieutenant 
Marion,  at  sight  of  such  horrid  scenes,  appeared  much 
shocked;  and  seeing  among  them  a man  who  had 
often  been  entertained  at  his  uncle’s  table,  he  flew  to 
him  for  protection,  and  threw  himself  into  his  arms. 
The  man  seemed  greatly  distressed,  and  tried  hard  to 
save  him  ; but  the  others  roared  out,  that  uhe  was 
one  of  the  breed  of  that  d — d old  rebel,”  and  that 
they  would  have  his  heart's  blood.  They,  moreover, 
swore,  with  the  most  horrid  oaths,  that  if  the  man 
did  not  instantly  push  young  Marion  from  him,  they 
would  blow  him  through  also . The  unfortunate  youth, 
being  then  thrust  from  the  side  of  his  friend,  was  im- 
mediately destroyed. 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


143 


I hope  the  tender  mercies  of  God  are  so  great  as 
not  to  let  our  umuorthiness  prevent  him  from  always 
doing  what  is  exactly  right  and  good  for  us.  We  ought 
not,  therefore,  to  breathe  a wish  different  from  the  will 
and  order  of  Providence.  But  still,  to  us,  it  seems  a 

great  pity  we  did  not  get  notice  of  captain  M ’s 

advancing.  We  could  have  made  a handsome  joint 
attack  of  it,  and  thereby  not  only  have  prevented  the 
horrid  murders  above  related,  but  have  scourged 
those  barbarians,  as  they  deserved.  For  we  heard 
the  firing,  but  thought  it  was  colonel  Alston’s  people 
killing  beeves.  9 

Among  the  very  few  prisoners  that  we  made  in  our 
last  action,  was  a mulatto  fellow,  who  was  suspected 
to  be  one  of  those  who  had  murdered  the  general’s 
nephew.  Whether  the  suspicion  was  well  or  ill  found- 
ed, I cannot  say  : but,  certain  it  is,  that  the  indigna- 
tion excited  against  him,  on  that  account,  soon  proved 
his  destruction.  For,  as  we  were  crossing  the  swamps 
of  Black  river  that  night,  an  officer  rode  up  to  him, 
while  marching  in  the  line  of  prisoners  under  guard, 
and  with  a pistol,  shot  him  dead  on  the  spot.  The 
captain  of  the  guard  was  instantly  sent  for,  and  se- 
verely reprimanded  by  the  general,  for  not  having 
killed  the  author  of  that  savage  deed. 

It  was  said  the  officer  had  offered  a bottle  of  rum 
to  have  the  mulatto  shot,  but,  finding  none  that  would 
do  it,  he  did  it  himself.  . I do  not  give  this  as  a fact: 
but,  I know  it  was  the  talk  in  camp,  though  carefully 
kept  from  the  general,  as  every  body  knew  it  would 
have  given  him  great  pain.  He  often  said,  “ he  truly 
lamented  the  untimely  death  of  his  nephew ; and  that 
he  had  been  told,  that  this  poor  man  was  his  murderer. 
But  that,  as  a prisoner,  his  life  ought  to  have  been 
held  most  sacred ; especially  as  the  charge  against 
him  was  without  evidence,  and,  perhaps,  no  better 
than  conjecture.  As  to  my  nephew,”  continued  he, 
u I believe  he  was  cruelly  murdered : but  living  vir- 
tuously, as  he  did,  and  then  dying  fighting  for  the 


1^4 


THE  LIFE  OF 


rights  of  man, lie  is,  no  doubt,  happy  ; and  this  is  my 
comfort.” 

The  next  day  Marion  ordered  the  troops  under 
arms,  and  formed  them  into  a large  circle,  all  fronting 
the  centre.  While  we  were  wondering  what  could  be 
the  meaning  of  this  strange  manoeuvre,  a sergeant  was 
seen  leading  into  the  circle  an  elegant  horse,  under 
saddle  and  bridle,  with  portmanteau,  sword,  pistols, 
and  musket.  This  was  the  horse,  furniture,  and  arms 
of  captain  Lewis,  whom  the  lad  Gwinn,  so  fortunate- 
ly for  me,  had  killed  in  the  action  three  days  before. 
Marion  then  called  Gwinn  from  the  ranks. 

The  boy  approached  him  with  his  hat  off. 

The  general,  placing  his  hand  upon  his  head,  in  the 
presence  of  the  whole  squadron,  pronounced  him  44  a 
brave  little  man ; and  there,”  pointing  to  the  horse  and 
furniture, 44  there  is  the  reward  of  your  gallantry.” 

44  Gwinn,  sir,”  said  I,  44  is  not  a good  soldier,  he 
fired  without  orders.” 

44  That’s  very  true,”  replied  he,  “-but  I am  sure, 
colonel,  you  are  the  last  that  ought  to  blame  me,  on 
that  account;  for  if  I had  not  fired  and  killed  captain 
Lewis,  exactly  as  I did,  he  would  have  killed  you ; 
and  besides,  his  saying  he  was  the  friend  of  George 
the  third , was  enough  for  me ; I did  not  think  I could 
fire  too  quick  on  such  a man  as  that.” 

But  when  the  sergeant,  at  the  order  of  Marion,  led 
up  to  him  the  horse,  richly  furnitured,  as  aforesaid, 
the  confusion  and  grimace  of  the  lad  were  truly  di- 
verting. He  blushed,  he  chuckled,  he  looked  around 
and  around  upon  his  comrades,  as  if  at  a loss  how  to 
contain  himself,  or  what  to  do.  At  length  he  made 
shift  to  reach  out  his  hand  to  the  bridle,  though  deep- 
ly blushing,  and  said,  44  Dear  me  now ! well  la!  what 
will  mammy  think,  and  the  children,  when  they  come 
to  see  me,  riding  up  here  on  this  famous  horse,  and 
all  these  fine  things  / I know  well  enough  how  mam- 
my will  have  a hearty  cry,  that’s  what  she  will ; for 
she  will  think  I staled  him.  But  if  any  of  the  folks 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


145 


up  our  way  should  go  to  jaw  about  me,  at  that  rate, 
I trust  as  how , general,  you  will  take  my  part,  and 
set  ’em  straight.” 

Marion  smiled,  and  commended  him  for  a good 
boy,  and  told  him  to  give  his  compliments  to  his 
mother,  and  also  his  thanks  to  her,  for  being  such  a 
true  mother  to  her  children,  in  bringing  them  up  so 
honestly. 

But  the  general  was  told  the  next  day,  that'Gwinn 
had  said,  “ he  always  hated  the  tories,  because  they 
would  not  fight  for  their  country ; and,  since  the  ge- 
neral had  paid  him  so  well  for  killing  one  of  them,  he 
was  determined  to  try  if  he  could  not  kill  more.” 

And  he  did  kill  more  too,  I’ll  warrant  him,  for  he 
was  with  us  to  the  end  of  the  war,  in  many  a hard 
brush.  And  then  he  was  such  a dead  shot  with  a 
rifle  ! Standing,  running,  or  flying,  it  was  all  one  to 
Gwinn.  He  would  make  nothing,  at  a hundred 
yards,  to  stop  you  a buck,  at  full  tilt  through  the 
woods,  as  hard  as  he  could  crack  it ; and  at  everv 
clip,  to  bring  down  the  squirrels  from  > e tops  of  the 
tallest  trees  in  the  forest. 


N 


146 


THE  LIFE  OF 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Mutiny  in  our  camp — Marion  suppresses  it — his  ad- 
dress to  the  officers 

THIS  war,  though  on  our  part  a war  of  virtue , was 
not  always  so  pleasant  as  might  have  been  expected. 
Instances  of  human  weakness  often  occurred  to  dis- 
turb our  harmony,  and  fill  good  men’s  hearts  with 
sorrow.  For  how,  without  grief,  could  we  behold  a 
man  fighting  by  our  side  to-day  like  a hero , for  the 
rights  of  bleeding  humanity;  to-morrow, like  a head- 
strong child y or  a headlong  beast , trampling  them  un- 
der foot ! And  oh  ! how  sad  to  see  nature’s  good- 
liest gifts,  of  manly  size , and  strength , and  courage , 
set  off,  too,  in  the  proudest  ornaments  of  war,  the 
fierce  cocked  hat,  the  flaming  regimentals,  and  gold- 
en shoulderknots,  all  defeated  of  their  power  to 
charm , nay,  all  turned  into  pity  and  contempt,  in  con- 
sequence of  our  knowing  the  owners  to  be  gamblers, 
swindlers,  and  villains  ! 

Such  was  the  truly  pitiable  case  of  some,  in  this 
our  glorious  war  of  liberty.  For  want  of  a good  edu- 
cation, I mean  the  early  precepts  of  virtue,  from  a 
parent’s  lips,  with  a few  excellent  books , to  lift  the 
noble  kindlings  of  the  soul,  the  flame  could  not  ascend 
to  what  was  heavenly  and  just;  but  with  inverted 
point,  stuck  downward  to  selfishness  and  vice.  Men 
of  this  character,  though  enlisted  in  the  war  of  liberty, 
were  not  her  soldiers,  felt  not  her  enthusiasm,  nor  her 
consolations.  They  did  not  walk  the  camp,  glorying 
in  themselves,  as  men  called  to  the  honour  of  hum- 
bling the  tyrant,  and  of  establishing  the  golden  reign 
of  equal  laws,  in  their  own  dear  country,  and  thence, 
perhaps  over  all  the  earth.  Alas!  no!  strangers  to 
these  divine  views  and  wishes,  they  look  no  higher 
than  sordid  gain  l and  as  there  was  but  little  of  that 
honourably  to  be  had,  they  were  often  gloomy  and  low 


GEN,  FRANCIS  MARION. 


1*7 


spirited.  u Their  life,”  they  were  wont  murmuringly 
to  say,  u was  wearing  away  ; their  country  gave  them 
nothing,  and  they  must  e’en  try  to  do  something  for 
themselves.” 

In  truth,  plunder , plunder , was  what  they  were 
spelling  for.  They  were  continually  darting  their 
greedy  eyes  upon  every  piece  of  merchandise  that 
came  in  their  way.  They  had  the  heart  not  only  to 
plunder  the  tories,  and  to  bring  their  unoffending 
children  to  want ; but  also  to  rob  and  ruin  their  own 
friends  the  whigs,  if  they  could  but  do  it  with  impu- 
nity. 

I am  led  to  these  reflections  by  a most  shameful 
affair,  which  happened  in  our  camp  about  this  time, 
and  which  threatened  consequences  as  serious  as  their 
source  was  shameful. 

We  were  encamped  near  the  house  of  a rich  man. 
by  the  name  of  Cross.  His  wife,  in  sense  and  domes- 
tic virtues,  was  an  Abigail ; while  as  to  her  hus 
band,  his  riches,  though  great,  were  his  least  recom- 
mendation, for  he  possessed  all  the  generosity  and 
honour  of  the  noblest  patriot.  His  soul  delighted  in 
Marion,  whom  he  called  the  pillar  of  our  c>anse.  Oft 
as  he  took  leave  of  us,  for  battle,  his  bosom  would 
heave,  his  visage  swell,  and  the  tear  would  start  into 
his  eye.  And  when  he  saw  us  return  again,  loaded 
with  the  spoils  of  victory,  he  would  rush  to  meet  us, 
with  all  a brother’s  transports  on  his  face.  His  flocks 
and  herds,  his  meat-houses  and  corn-fields,  were  all 
our  own  ; while  his  generous  looks  would  tell  us  that 
he  still  wished  for  more  to  give.  Indeed,  often  at  the 
most  imminent  risk  of  his  life,  he  used  to  send  us  in- 
telligence, and  also  furnish  us  with  powder  and  ball. 
But  this  most  amiable  of  men,  was  not  permitted  to 
see  our  cause  triumphant;  for  in  the  midst  of  his  sighs 
and  tears  for  his  struggling  country,  God  took  him  to 
his  own  rest.  The  messenger  of  death  came  to  him, 
in  the  character  of  a nervous  fever. . As  the  physi- 


148 


THE  LIFE  OF 


eians  did  not  like  to  visit  him  on  his  plantation,  he 
was  carried  into  Georgetown  to  be  near  them. 

Marion  went  to  see  him  the  morning  he  set  out; 
and  immediately  alter  his  departure,  fixed  a guard  at 
his  house,  that  nothing  might  be  disturbed.  One 
would  indeed  have  supposed  it  unnecessary  to  place 
a guard  over  such  a house  as  his.  But  alas ! what 
will  not  a base  heart-hardening  avarice  do ! And  I 
blush  while  I relate,  that,  the  very  day  after  our  ge- 
nerous friend  was  carried  off,  pale  and  hollow-eyed, 
to  Georgetown,  whence  hi  never  more  returned,  two 
of  our  officers,  one  of  them  a Major,  went  to  his 
house  to  pillage  it ! 

The  guard,  of  course,  opposed : but  they  dammed 
him  for  an  w impertinent  rascal,”  and  swore  that  if  he 
opened  his  mouth  again,  they  would  spit  him  on  the 
spot.  Then  bursting  the  door,  they  went  in,  and  after 
forcing  the  desks,  drawers,  and  trunks,  they  rifled 
them  of  whatever  they  wanted. 

This  most  unsoldierly  and  detestable  transaction 
was  communicated  to  me  by  Mrs.  Cross  herself ; 
whose  servant  came  to  me  next  morning  with  her 
compliments,  and  requested  that  I would  go  down  to 
her,  where  she  was  sitting  in  her  carriage  at  the  road. 
I waited  on  her  at  once  ; and  greatly  to  my  grief, 
found  her  in  tears.  I entreated  to  know  the  cause. 

“ Oh,  sir,”  replied  she,  w we  are  ruined!  we  are 
ruined!  Poor  Mr.  Cross  is,  I fear, on  his  deathbed. 
And  then  what  will  become  of  me  and  my  poor  chil- 
dren, when  he  is  gone,  and  every  thing  is  taken  from 
us  !”  She  then  reminded  me  of  her  husband’s  love 
to  general  Marion  and  his  people,  from  whom  he 
withheld  nothing,  but  gladly  imparted  of  all  he  had, 
though  often  at  the  risk  of  his  utter  destruction  from 
the  British  and  tories.  u And  yet,  after  all,”  said 
she,  u soon  as  my  poor  sick  husband’s  back  is  turned, 
your  people  can  go  and  break  him  up  !” 

“ Madam,”  I replied,  “ I hope  ’tis  no  offence  to 
ask  your  pardon ; for  I really  cannot  admit  a suspi- 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


149 


cion  so  disgraceful  to  our  troop  : and  to  my  certain 
knowledge,  general  Marion  placed  a guard  over  your 
house  the  moment  Mr.  Cross  left  it.” 

44  Yes,  sir,”  said  she,  44  that’s  very  true.  And  it 
was  like  general  Marion.  But  some  of  our  officers 
have  forced  the  guard  and  broken  open  the  house, 
and  this  instant  I saw  one  of  them  with  Mr.  Cross’s 
sword  by  his  side.” 

I never  felt  more  mortified  in  my  life.  Then,  after 
entreating  her  to  be  perfectly  easy  about  her  house 
and  furniture  in  future,  I took  leave  of  this  excellent 
lady,  and  flew  to  the  guard  to  sec  if  what  I had  heard 
were  true. 

He  told  me  it  was  too  true  ; mentioned  the  names 
of  the  officers ; and  even  went  so  far  as  to  show  me 
one  of  them  strutting  about  with  the  sword  by  his 
side  ! 

It  was  well  for  the  wretch,  that  I did  not  possess 
the  eyes  of  a basilisk,  for  I should  certainly  have 
blasted  him  cn  the  spot.  Pausing,  however,  one 
salutary  moment,  to  confirm  myself  in  the  love  of 
virtue,  by  noting  how  abominable  a villain  looks,  I 
hasted  to  the  general  with  the  hateful  tale  ; which  ex- 
cited in  his  honest  bosom  the  indignation  which  I 
had  expected.  Then  calling  one  of  his  aids,  he  said, 

u Go  to  major , and  desire  him  to  send  me  Mr. 

Cross’s  sword  immediately.” 

The  aid  was  presently  back,  but  without  the  sword. 
On  being  asked  by  the  general,  why  he  had  not 
brought  it,  he  replied ; 44  The  major  says,  sir,  that  the 
sword  does  not  belong  to  Mr.  Cross.  He  says, 
moreover,  that  if  you  want  the  sword,  you  must  go 
for  it  yourself.” 

44  Well,  go  back,”  said  the  general,  44  and  desire 
those  two  officers  to  come  to  me.” 

It  was  not  for  such  an  affair  as  this  to  be  kept  se- 
cret. It  took  wind  in  a moment ; and  by  the  time 
the  two  officers  wrere  arrived,  almost  all  the  field  offi- 
N 2 


150 


THE  LIFE  OF 


cers  had  come  together  to  the  general’s  quarters,  to 
see  how  he  would  act  on  this  extraordinary  occasion. 

Inferring  from  the  looks  of  the  two  culprits,  that 
they  meant  to  test  his  firmness  ; and,  willing  that 
the  company  should  fully  understand  the  merits  of 
the  case,  he  thus  addressed  us: 

“Wou  well  know,  gentlemen,”  said  he,  “ how  like 
a brother  the  proprietor  of  this  plantation  has  always 
treated  us.  We  never  gained  a victory,  hut  it  caused 
him  tears  of  joy ; and  however  starved  by  others,  by 
him  we  have  ever  been  feasted.  You  also  know,  that 
he  is  now  gone,  sick,  to  Georgetown — there,  perhaps, 
to  die.  Soon  as  he  left  us,  I placed  a guard  over  his 
house ; but,  at  the  same  time,  blushed  for  the  reflec- 
tion cast  on  nay  men ; all  of  whom,  as  I thought, 
would,  instead  of  robbing,  have  defended  it  with 
their  lives.  Rut,  equally  to  my  astonishment  and 
grief,  I find  I was  mistaken.  Yes,  gentlemen,  our 
friend  has  been  robbed,  not  by  the  poor  untutored 
privates  in  the  ranks,  but  by  my  officers!  by  those 
who  ought  to  have  abhorred  such  an  act!  Yes,  gen- 
tlemen, two  of  our  brethren  in  arms — two  of  our  offi- 
cers— -forgetting  what  they  owed  to  you,  what  they 
owed  to  me,  and,  most  of  all,  to  their  country  and  to 
themselves,  have  done  this  odious  deed  ! And  one  of 
them  (here  he  pointed  to  the  major)  now  wears  b} 
his  side  the  sword  of  our  sick  and  injured  friend. 

“ Well  knowing  that  all  men,  even  the  best,  have 
too  often  t done  those  things  which  they  ought  not  to 
have  done,’  I felt  it  my  duty  to  be  as  tender  with  this 
gentleman  as  possible;  and  therefore,  sent  him  a po- 
lite request  that  he  would  return  the  sword  : to  which 
he  was  pleased  to  reply,  that 4 if  I wanted  it,  I must 
come  and  take  it  myself.’  Still  wishing  to  settle  the 
affair  in  a way  as  much  to  his  credit  as  possible,  I 
sent  .for  b;m  to  come  to  me.  And  now,  sir,  (address- 
ing the  major)  I entreat  of  you,  for  the  last  time,  to 
give  me  up  that  sword.” 

With  great  rudeness  he  swore  he  would  not . Ir. 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


151 


stantly  every  face  was  dark  : and,  biting  his  lip  with 
rage,  each  officer  laid  his  hand  upon  his  sword  and 
looked  to  the  general.  One  word,  nay,  one  assenting 
look,  and  the  brute  would  have  been  hewed  to  mince- 
meat in  a moment.  For  my  own  part,  whether  I felt 
more,  or  governed  myself  less  than  the  rest,  I cannot 
say  : but  looking  to  the  general,  I broke  out  with  an 
oath,  that  if  I commanded  as  he  did,  I would  have 
that  fellow  hung  in  five  minutes. 

“This  is  no  business  of  yours,  sir,”  replied  he^  ra- 
ther sternly  ; u they  are  now  before  me.” 

Then  looking  at  the  major,  still  with  great  benig- 
nity, he  said — “ And  do  you  really  mean,  sir,  not  to 
give  me  up  that  sword  ?” 

“ Sir,  I will  not!”  replied  the  major. 
w Sergeant  of  the  guard  !”  said  the  general,  “ bring 
me  instantly  a file  of  soldiers  !” 

Upon  this,  the  major’s  colleague,  who  stood  by, 
was  seen  to  touch  him. 

Seeing  -flie  guard  coming  up  with  their  naked 
weapons,  and  much  anger  in  their  looks,  the  major 
lost  his  courage,  turned  pale,  and,  in  a sadly  altered 
tone,  whined  out,  u General,  you  needed  not  to  have 
called  in  the  guard.  I will  deliver  up  the  sword. 
Here  it  is.” 

“ No,  sir,  I will  not  accept  it  at  your  hands.  Give 
it  to  the  sergeant.” 

To  this  humiliating  order,  with  much  shame  and 
blushing,  the  poor  major  was  constrained  to  comply. 

Thus,  happily,  were  extinguished  the  first  sparks 
of  a mutiny,  which,  it  was  oiice  thought,  would  have 
broken  out  into  a dangerous  flame.  The  cool,  dis- 
passionate address  which  effected  this,  did  not  fail  to 
produce  a proper  impression  on  us  all.  This  the 
general  easily  perceived  in  our  looks ; and  thereupon, 
as  was  common  with  him,  when  any  such  occasion 
served,  he  arose  and  addressed  us,  in,  as  nearly  as  I 
can  recollect,  the  following  words  : 

“ When,  gentlemen,  shall  we  catch  the  spirit  of  our 


152 


THE  LIFE  OF 


profession;  the  spirit  of  men  fighting  for  a republic; 
a commonwealth  of  brothers  / that  government  most 
glorious,  where  God  alone  is  king!  that  government 
most  pleasant , where  men  make  and  obey  their  own 
laws  ! and  that  government  most  prosperous , where 
men,  reaping  as  they  sow,  feel  the  utmost  stimulus 
to  every  virtue  that  can  exalt  the  human  character 
and  condition  ! This  government,  the  glory  of  the 
earth , has  ever  been  the  desire  of  the  wise  and  good 
of  all  nations.  For  this,  the  Platos  of  Greece,  the 
Catos  of  Rome,  the  Tells  of  Switzerland,  the  Sidneys 
of  England,  and  the  Washingtons  of  America,  have 
sighed  and  reasoned,  have  fought  and  died.  In  this 
grand  army,  gentlemen,  we  are  now  enlisted  ; and 
are  combating  under  the  same  banners  with  those 
excellent  men  of  the  earth.  Then  let  self-gratulation 
gladden  our  every  heart,  and  swell  each  high-toned 
nerve.  With  such  worthies  by  our  sides,  with  such 
a cause  before  our  eyes,  let  us  move  on  with  joy  to 
the  battle,  and  charge  like  the  honoured  champions 
of  God  and  of  human  rights.  But,  in  the  moment 
of  victory,  let  the  supplicating  enemy  find  us  as 
lovely  in  mercy,  as  we  are  terrible  in  valour.  Our 
enemies  are  blind.  They  neither  understand  nor  de- 
sire the  happiness  of  mankind . - Ignorant,  therefore, 
as  children,  they  claim  our  pity  for  themselves . And 
as  to  their  widows  and  little  ones,  the  very  thought 
of  them  should  fill  our  souls  with  tenderness.  The 
crib  that  contains  their  corn,  the  cow  that  gives  them 
milk,  the  cabin  that  shelters  their  feeble  heads  from 
the  storm,  should  be  sacred  in  our  eyes.  Weak  and 
helpless,  as  they  are,  still  they  are  the  nurslings  of 
heaven — -our  best  intercessors  with  the  Almighty. 
Let  them  but  give  us  their  blessings,  and  I care  not 
how  much  the  British  curse.  Let  their  prayers  as- 
cend up  before  God  -in  our  behalf,  and  Cornwallis 
and  Tarleton  shall  yet  flee  before  us,  like  frightened 
wolves  before  the  well  arnjed  shepherds  !” 

Such  were  the  words  of  Marion,  in  the  day  when 


Lwm 

Of  the 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 


Page  154' 


General  Marion  feasting  the  British  officer  on  szveet 
potatoes , 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


153 


he  saw  in  our  looks,  that  our  hearts  were  prepared  for 
instruction.  And  such  was  the  epilogue  to  the  mutiny. 
The  satisfaction  which  it  gave  to  the  officers  was  so 
general  and  sincere,  that  I often  heard  them  say  after- 
wards, that  since  the  mutiny  was  suppressed,  they 
were  glad  it  happened  ; for  it  had  given  them  an  op- 
portunity to  hear  a lecture,  which  they  hoped  would 
make  them  better  men  and  braver  soldiers  too,  as 
long  as  they  lived. 

About  this  time  we  received  a flag  from  the  ene- 
my in  Georgetown ; the  object  of  which  was,  to  make 
some  arrangements  about  the  exchange  of  prisoners. 
The  flag,  after  the  usual  ceremony  of  blindfolding, 
was  conducted  into  Marion’s  encampment.  Having 
heard  great  talk  about  general  Marion,  his  fancy  had, 
naturally  enough,  sketched  out  for  him  some  stout 
figure  of  a warrior,  such  as  O’Hara  or  Cornwallis 
himself,  of  martial  aspect  and  flaming  regimentals. 
But  what  was  his  surprise,  when,  led  into  Marion’s 
presence,  and  the  bandage  taken  from  his  eyes,  he 
beheld  in  our  hero,  a swarthy,  smoke-dried  little 
man,  with  scarce  enough  of  threadbare  homespun  to 
cover  his  nakedness  ! and  in  place  of  tall  ranks,  of 
gaily  dressed  soldiers,  a handful  of  sunburnt  yellow- 
legged militia-men  ; some  roasting  potatoes  and  some 
asleep,  with  their  black  firelocks  and  powderhorns 
lying  by  them  on  the  logs  ! Having  recovered  a little 
from  his  surprise,  he  presented  his  letter  to  general 
Marion ; who  perused  it,  and  soon  settled  every  thing 
to  his  satisfaction. 

The  officer  took  up  his  hat  to  retire. 

“ Oh  no  !”  said  Marion  ; it  is  now  about  our  time 
of  dining ; and  I hope,  sir,  you  will  give  us  the  plea- 
sure of  your  company  to  dinner.” 

At  mention  of  the  word  dinner , the  British  officer 
looked  around  him  ; but  to  his  great  mortification, 
could  see  no  sign  of  a pot,  pan,  Dutch-oven,  or  any 
other  cooking  utensil  that  could  raise  the  spirits  of  a 
hungry  man. 


154 


THE  LIFE  OF 


44  Well,  Tom,”  said  the  general  to  one  of  his  men, 
44  come,  give  us  our  dinner.” 

The  dinner,  to  which  he  alluded,  was  no  other  than 
a heap  of  sweet  potatoes,  that  were  very  snugly  roast- 
ing under  the  embers,  and  which  Tom,  with  his  pine 
stick  poker,  soon  liberated  from  their  ashy  confine- 
ment; pinching  them,  every  now  and  then,  with  his 
fingers,  especially  the  big  ones,  to  see  whether  they 
were  well  done  or  not.  Then  having  cleansed  them 
of  the  ashes,  partly  by  blowing  them  with  his  breath, 
and  partly  by  brushing  them  with  the  sleeve  of  his 
old  cotton  shirt,  he  piled  some  of  the  best  on  a large 
piece  of  bark,  and  placed  them  between  the  British 
officer  and  Marion,  on  the  trunk  of  the  fallen  pine  on 
which  they  sat. 

a I fear,  sir,”  said  the  general,  44  our  dinner  will 
not  prove  so  palatable  to  you  as  I could  wish  ; but  it 
is  the  best  we  have.” 

The  officer,  who  was  a well  bred  man,  took  up  one 
of  the  potatoes  and  affected  to  feed,  as  if  he  had  found 
a great  daintv;  but  it  was  very  plain,  that  he  ate 
more  from  good  manners  than  good  appetite. 

Presently  he  broke  out  into  a hearty  laugh.  Ma- 
rion looked  surprised.  44 1 beg  pardon,  general,” 
said  he  : 44  but  one  cannot,  you  know,  always  com- 
mand his  conceits.  I was  thinking  how  drolly  some 
of  my  brother  officers  would  look,  if  our  government 
were  to  gi  ve  them  such  a bill  of  fare  as  this.” 

44 1 suppose,”  replied  Marion,  44  it  is  not  equal  to 
their  style  of  dining.” 

44  No,  indeed,”  quoth  the  officer  ; 44  and  this,  I ima- 
gine, is  one  of  your  accidental  lent  dinners  ; a sort  of 
a ban  yan.  In  general,  no  doubt,  you  live  a great 
deal  better.” 

44  Rather  worse,”  answered  the  general : 44  for  often 
we  don’t  get  enough  of  this.” 

44  Heavens  !”  rejoined  the  officer.  44  But  probably, 
what  you  lose  in  meal  you  make  up  in  malt ; though 
stinted  in  provisions , you  draw  noble  pay?” 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


155 


<c  Not  a cent,  sir,”  said  Marion,  “ not  a cent.” 

“ Heavens  and  earth  ! then  you  must  be  in  a bad 
box.  I don’t  see,  general,  how  you  can  stand  it.” 

“ Why,  sir,”  replied  Marion,  with  a smile  of  self- 
approbation, “ these  things  depend  on  feeling.” 

The  Englishman  said,  he  “ did  not  believe  that  it 
would  be  an  easy  matter  to  reconcile  his  feelings  to  a 
soldier’s  life  on  general  Marion’s  terms  ; all  fighting 
and  no  pay  ! and  no  provisions  but  potatoes  /” 

“ Why,  sir,”  answered  the  general,  “ the  heart  is 
all ; and,  when  that  is  much  interested,  a man  can 
do  any  thing.  Many  a youth  would  think  it  hard  to 
indent  himself  a slave  for  fourteen  years.  But  let 
him  be  over  head  and  cars  in  love,  and  with  such  a 
beauteous  sweetheart  as  Rachel,  and  he  will  think  no 
more  of  fourteen  years’  servitude  than  young  Jacob 
did.  Well,  now,  this  is  Exactly  my  case.  I am  in 
love;  and  my  sweetheart  is  Liberty.  Be  that  hea- 
venly nymph  my  companion,  and  these  wilds  and 
woods  shall  have  charms  beyond  London  and  Paris 
in  slavery.  To  have  no  proud  monarch  driving 
over  me  with  his  gilt  coaches  ; nor  his  host  of  ex- 
cise-men and  tax-gatherers  insulting  and  robbing  me; 
but  to  be  my  own  master,  my  own  prince  and  sove- 
reign, gloriously  preserving  my  national  dignity,  and 
pursuing  my  true  happiness  ; planting  my  vineyards, 
and  eating  their  luscious  fruits ; and  sowing  my  fields, 
and  reaping  the  golden  grain  : and  seeing  millions  of 
brothers  all  around  me,  equally  free  and  happy  as  my* 
self.  This,  sir,  is  what  I long  for.” 

The  officer  replied,  that  both  as  a man  and  a Bri- 
ton, he  must  certainly  subscribe  to  this  as  a happy 
state  of  things. 

“Happy!”  quoth  Marion;  “yes,  happy  indeed! 
and  I had  rather  fight  for  such  blessings  for  my  coun- 
try, and  feed  on  roots,  than  keep  aloof,  though  wal- 
lowing in  all  the  luxuries  of  Solomon.  For  now,  sir, 
I walk  the  soil  that  gave  me  birth,  and  exult  in  the 
thought  that  I am  not  unworthy  of  it.  I look  upon 


156 


THE  LIFE  OF 


these  venerable  trees  around  me,  and  feel  that  I do 
not  dishonour  them.  I think  of  my  own  sacred 
rights,  and  rejoice  that  I have  not  basely  deserted 
them.  And  when  I look  forward  to  the  long  ages 
of  posterity,  I glory  in  the  thought  that  I am  fighting 
their  battles.  The  children  of  distant  generations 
may  never  hear  my  name  ; but  still  it  gladdens  my 
heart  to  think  that  I am  now  contending  for  their 
freedom , and  all  its  countless  blessings.” 

I looked  at  Marion  as  he  uttered  these  sentiments, 
and  fancied  I felt  as  when  I heard  the  last  words  of 
the  brave  De  Kalb.  The  Englishman  hung  his  ho- 
nest head,  and  looked,  I thought,  as  if  he  had  seen 
the  upbraiding  ghosts  of  his  illustrious  countrymen, 
Sidney  and  Hampden. 

On  his  return  to  Georgetown,  he  was  asked  by 
colonel  Watson  why  he  looked  so  serious  ? 

“ I have  cause,  sir,”  said  he,  u to  look  serious.” 

“ What ! has  general  Marion  refused  to  treat  ?” 

“ No,  sir.” 

u Well,  then,  has  old  Washington  defeated  sir 
Henry  Clinton,  and  broke  up  our  army  ?” 

“ No,  sir,  not  that  neither ; but  worse  P 
“ Ah  ! what  can  be  worse  ?” 

44  Why,  sir,  I have  seen  an  American  general  and 
his  officers,  without  pay,  and  almost  without  clothes^ 
living  on  roots  and  drinking  water;  and  all  for  Lt  ■ 
berty  ! What  chance  have  we  against  such  men !” 

.It  is  said  colonel  Watson  was  not  much  obliged  to 
him  for  this  speech.  But  the  young  officer  was  so 
struck  with  Marion’s  sentiments,  that  he  never  rested 
until  he  threw  up  his  commission,  and  retired  from 
the  service. 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


157 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

44  Ah  brandy  ! brandy  ! bane  of  life, 

44  Spring  of  tumult — source  of  strife  : 

44  Could  I but  half  thy  curses  tell, 

44  The  wise  would  wish  thee  safe  at  hell.” 

Curious  and  Instructive  Anecdotes < 

THAT  great  poet,  John  Milton,  who  seems  to 
have  known  him  well,  assures  us  that  the  devil  was 
the  inventor  of  gunpowder.  But,  for  my  own  part, 
were  I in  the  humour  to  ascribe  any  particular  inven- 
tion to  the  author  of  all  evil,  it  should  be  that  of  dis- 
tilling apple-brandy.  We  have  scripture  for  it,  that 
he  began  his  capers  with  the  apple ; then,  why  not 
go  on  with  the  brandy,  which  is  but  the  fiery  juice 
of  the  apple  ? 

At  any  rate,  I am  pretty  sure  I shall  hardly  ever 
be  able  to  think  of  it  again  with  tolerable  patience,  as 
long  as  I live.  For,  it  was  that  vile  filthy  poison  that 
cut  me  out  of  one  of  the  finest  plumes  that  I ever  ex- 
pected to  feather  my  cap  with. 

The  case  stands  briefly  thus.  I have  told  the 
reader,  that  Marion  surprised  and  captured  the  cele- 
brated tory  partisan,  colonel  Tynes,  after  killing  the 
major  part  of  his  men.  For  safe  keeping,  he  was 
sent  into  North  Carolina;  whence  made  his  es- 
cape— got  back  into  the  forests  of  Black  river,  and 
collected  a stout  force  to  try  his  fortune  a second 
time  with  Marion. 

But,  getting  knowledge  of  the  thing,  Marion  made 
one  of  his  forced  marches,  fell  upon  him,  unawares, 
and  broke  him  up  worse  than  before ; k Jling  and 
taking  his  whole  party.  Tynes  was  sent  again  to 
North  Carolina;  whence  he  contrived  again  to  make 
his  escape;  and,  returning  to  his  old  haunts,  soon 
rallied  a formidable  force,  for  a third  trial . This 
news  was  soon  brought  to  general  Marion,  who  there- 
upon, desired  me  to  take  forty  of  our  best  cavaliers, 


15& 


THE  LIFE  OF 


and  see  if  we  could  not  scourge  colonel  Tynes  once 
more. 

About  sunset  we  mounted,  and  travelled  hard  all 
that  night  and  until  the  middle  of  next  day,  when  we 
halted,  for  refreshment,  at  the  house  of  one  who  was 
truly  a 44  publican  and  sinner,”  for  he  was  a great  tory . 

Not  knowing  what  secret  intelligence  the  man 
might  convey  to  the  enemy,  who  were  but  fifteen 
miles  off,  I had  him  taken  up  and  put  under  guard. 
We  then  got  dinner,  for  which  we  honourably  paid 
the  poor  woman  his  wife.  And  now  comes  my  woful 
story.  While,  after  dinner,  I was  busily  employed 
in  catechising  my  prisoner,  how  should  the  devil  be 
employed,  but  in  tempting  my  men  with  the  distilled 
juice  of  the  apple  ? Having,  by  some  ill  luck,  found 
out  that  there  was  a barrel  of  it  in  the  house,  they 
hastened  to  the  poor  landlady,  who  not  only  gave 
them  a full  dose  for  the  present,  but  filled  their  bot- 
tles and  canteens. 

As  we  pushed  on,  after  dinner,  in  high  spirits,  foi 
the  enemy,  I could  not  but  remark  how  constantly 
the  men  were  turning  up  their  canteens. 

44  What  the  plague  have  you  got  there,  boys,”  said 
I,  u that  you  are  so  eternally  drinking.” 

44 Water!  sir,  water!  nothing  but  water!”  The 
rogues  were  drinking  brandy  all  the  time ; but,  by 
way  of  whipping  the  devil  round  the  stump,  they 
called  it  water  l that  is,  apple  water. 

Presently,  finding,  from  their  gaiety  and  frolick- 
someness,  what  they  had  been  after,  I ordered  a halt, 
and  set  myself  to  harangue  them  for  such  unsoldierly 
conduct.  But  I might  as  well  have  talked  to  a troop 
of  drunken  Yahoos.  For,  some  of  them  grinned  in 
my  face  like  monkeys ; others  looked  as  stupid  as 
asses  ; while  the  greater  part  chattered  like  magpies  : 
each  boasted  what  a clever  fellow  he  was,  and  what 
mighty  things  he  could  do,  yet  reeling  all  the  time, 
and  scarcely  able  to  sit  his  horse.  Indeed  our  guide. 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


150 


a fat  jolter-headed  fellow,  fetching  one  of  his  heavy 
lee  lurches,  got  so  far  beyond  his  perpendicular,  that 
he  could  not  right  again  ; but  fell  off,  and  came  to 
the  ground  as  helpless  as  a miller’s  bag.  In  short, 
among  mywhole  corps  there  was  but  one  sober  man, 
and  that  was  captain  Neilson. 

It  is  not  for  language  to*  express  one  thousandth 
part  of  my  mortification  and  rage.  To  have  made 
such  an  extraordinary  march,  and  at  the  head  of  such 
choice  fellows  too ; to  have  come  almost  within  sight 
of  the  enemy ; an  enemy  that  I was  eager  to  humble, 
and  which  would  have  yielded  me  so  complete  and 
glorious  a victory ; and  yet  to  have  lost  all  so  shame- 
fully: and  thus  like  a fool  to  be  sent  back  to  my 
general,  with  my  finger  in  my  mouth.,  was,  indeed, 
almost  beyond  endurance.  But  I was  obliged  to  en- 
dure it.  For,  to  have  led  my  men  into  action,  in  that 
condition,  would  have  been  no  better  than  murdering 
them.  And  to  have  kept  them  there  until  they  could 
have  cooled  off,  was  utterly  out  of  the  question.  For 
there  was  ncX  a family  in  that  whole  district  that 
would,  with  their  good  will,  have  given  us  an  nour:s 
repose,  or  a morsel  of  bread.  I therefore  instantly 
ordered  a retreat,  which  was  made  with  all  the  noise 
and  irregularity  that  might  have  been  expected  from 
a troop  of  drunkards,  each  of  whom  mistaking  him- 
self for  commander  in  chief,  gave  orders  according  to 
his  own  mad  humour ; and  whooped  and  hallooed  at 
such  a rate,  that  I verily  believed,  no  bull-drivers 
ever  made  half  the  racket. 

That  we  should  have  obtained  a most  complete 
victory,  is  very  certain.  For  in  a few  days  after  this, 
we  laid  hands  upon  some  of  those  very  same  tories, 
who  stated,  that  in  consequence  of  the  noise  which 
we  made  that  night,  colonel  Tynes  despatched  some 
of  his  cavalry  up  the  road  next  morning,  to  see  what 
was  the  matter.  On  coming  to  the  spot,  where  I had 
vainly  endeavoured  to  form  my  drunken  dogs,  they 


160 


THE  LIFE  OF 


found  on  the  ground  some  of  our  plumes ; which 
colonel  Tynes  no  sooner  saw  than  he  bawled  out* 
w Marion  / Marion  /”  then,  leaping  on  their  horses, 
off  they  went,  whip  and  spur. 

u Well,  where  is  colonel  Tynes  ?”  said  the  general, 
as  I entered  his  presence.  This  was  the  question 
which  I had  expected,  and,  indeed,  blushed  for  the 
answer.  But  after  hearing  my  doleful  story,  he  re- 
plied with  his  usual  philosophy : 44  Well,  you  did  right 
to  retreat ; but  pray  keep  a careful  eye  on  the  apple 
wate'r  next  time.” 

But  to  give  the  devil  his  due,  I must  confess  there 
was  one  instance,  in  which  I thought  some  good  was 
done  by  brandy.  This  was  in  the  case  of  captain 
Snipes  and  his  command,  which  by  way  of  farce  to 
my  own  tragedy,  I beg  leave  to  relate. 

Hearing  of  a tory  camp-meeting  not  far  distant, 
Marion  despatched  the  brave  captain  Snipes  with  a 
party  to  chastise  them.  They  had  scarcely  got  upon 
the  tory  cruising-ground,  before,  at  a short  turn  in  the 
road,  they  came  full  butt  upon  a large  body  of  horse- 
men. Supposing  them  to  be  tories,  Snipes  instantly 
gave  the  word  to  charge ; himself  leading  the  way 
with  his  umal  impetuosity.  The  supposed  tories, 
wheeling  about,  took  to  the  sands,  and  went  off,  as 
hard  as  their  horses  could  stave  ; and  thus,  crack  and 
crack,  they  had  it  for  about  two  miles. 

Finding  that  Snipes  was  gaining  upon  them,  the 
runagates  began  to  lighten  themselves  of  every  thing 
they  could  spare,  and  the  road  was  presently  strewed 
with  blankets  and  knapsacks.  One  of  them, it  seems, 
carried  a five  gallon  keg  of  brandy,  which  he  could 
not  think  of  parting  with  ; and  being  well  mounted,  he 
stood  a good  pull  for  the  two  first  miles.  But  finding 
he  was  dropping  astern  very  fa  st,  he  slyly  cut  the  straps 
of  his  mail  pillion,  and  so  let  his  keg,  brandy  and  all, 
go  by  the  run,  over  his  horse’s  rump.  Captain  Snipes, 
who  led  the  chase,  found  no  difficulty  in  passing  the 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


161 


keg  : but  his  men  coming  up  instantly,  broached  to,  all 
standing ; for  they  could  no  more  pass  by  a keg  of 
brandy,  than  young  monkeys  could  pass  a basket  of 
apples. 

Snipes  cursed  and  raved  like  a madman,  but  all  in 
vain  : for  they  swore  they  must  have  a clram . While 
they  were  devising  ways  and  means  how  to  get  into 
the  keg,  the  supposed  tories,  now  a good  distance 
ahead,  came  to  a halt,  and  their  captain  fortunately  re- 
flecting that  their  pursuers  might  not  be  enemies,  sen* 
Lack  a flag.  The  result  was,  the  very  joyful  discovery  , 
that  the  owners  of  the  keg  were  good  whigs  coming 
to  join  general  Marion.  Thus,  to  a moral  certainty 
this  keg  of  brandy  was  made,  of  kind  heaven,  the 
happy  means  of  preventing  much  bloodshed  that  day. 

Having  given  two  cases  of  brandy,  the  one  good, 
the  other  bad,  I will  now  give  a third,  which  the  reader, 
if  he  pleases,  may  call  indifferent , and  which  runs  as 
follows. 

General  Marion,  still  encamped  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Georgetown,  ordered  captain  Withers  to 
take  sergeant  Macdonald,  with  four  volunteers,  and 
go  on  the  enemy’s  lines  to  see  what  they  were  doing. 
On  approaching  the  town,  they  met  an  old  tory  ; one 
of  your  half-witted  fellows,  whom  neither  side  re- 
garded any  more  than  a Jew  does  a pig,  and  there- 
fore suffered  him  to  stroll  when  and  where  he  pleased. 
The  old  man  knew  captain  Withers  very  well ; and 
as  soon  as  he  had  got  near  enough  to  recollect  him, 
he  bawled  out,  u God’s  mercy,  master  Withers  ! why, 
where  are  you  going  this  course  ?” 

u Going,  old  daddy  ! why  to  the  devil,  perhaps,’' 
replied  Withers. 

“ Well  faith  ! that’s  like  enough,  captain,”  said  tht 
old  man,  w especially  if  you  keep  on  this  tack  mucl 
longer.  But  before  you  go  any  further,  suppose  you 
take  a pull  with  me  of  this,  holding  up  a stout  tickler 
0 2 


162 


THE  LIFE  OF 


of  brandy,  mayhap  you  may  not  get  such  good  liquor 
where  you  are  going.” 

44  With  all  my  heart,  daddy,”  answered  Withers, 
and  twigg’d  the  tickler  to  the  tune  of  a deep  dram  : 
then  passed  it  on  to  Macdonald,  who  also  twigg’d  it, 
<c  and  Tom  twigg’d  it,  and  Dick  twigg’d  it,  and  Har- 
ry twigg’d  it,  and  so  they  all  twigg’d  it.”  In  the 
mean  time  the  chat  went  round  very  briskly,  and 
dram  after  dram,  the  brandy,  until  the  tickler  was 
drained  to  the  bottom.  And  then  the  subtle  spirit 
of  the  brandy,  ascending  into  their  noddles,  worked 
such  wonders,  that  they  all  began  to  feel  themselves 
as  big  as  field  officers.  Macdonald,  for  his  part,  with 
a face  as  red  as  a comet,  reined  up  Selim,  and  draw- 
ing his  claymore,  began  to  pitch  and  prance  about, 
cutting  and  slashing  the  empty  air,  as  if  he  had  a score 
of  enemies  before  him,  and  ever  and  anon,  roaring 
out — “ Huzza,  boys  ! damme,  let’s  charge  !” 

u Charge,  boys  ! charge  !”  cried  all  the  rest,  rein- 
ing up  their  horses,  and  flourishing  their  swords. 

u Where  the  plague  are  you  going  to  charge  ?” 
asked  the  old  tory. 

w Why,  into  Georgetown,  right  off,”  replied  they. 

M Well,  you  had  better  have  a care  boys,  how  you 
charge  there,  for  I’ll  be  blamed  if  you  do  not  get 
yourselves  into  business  pretty  quick  : for  the  town 
is  chock  full  of  red  coats.” 

“ Red  coats  !”  one  and  all  they  roared  out,  “ red 
coats  ! egad,  that’s  just  what  we  want.  Charge, 
boys  ! charge  ! huzza  for  the  red  coats,  damme  !” 
Then,  clapping  spurs  to  their  steeds,  off  went  these 
six  young  mad-caps,  huzzaing  and  flourishing  their 
swords,  and  charging  at  full  tilt,  into  a British  gar- 
rison town  cf  three  hundred  men  ! ! 

The  enemy,  supposing  that  this  was  only  our  ad 
vance , and  that  general  Marlon,  with  his  whole  force, 
would  presently  be  upon  them,  flew  with  all  speed  U 
their  redoubt,  and  there  lay,  as  snug  as  fleas  ir.  i 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


163 


sheep-skin.  But  all  of  them  were  not  qiute  so  lucky, 
for  several  were  overtaken  and  cut  down  in  the  streets, 
among  whom  was  a sergeant  major,  a sUoit  greasy 
fellow,  who  strove  hard  to  waddle  away  with  his 
bacon ; but  Selim  was  too  quick  for  him : and  Mac- 
donald, with  a back-handed  stroke  of  his  claymore, 
sent  his  frightened  ghost  to  join  the  majority. 

Having  thus  cleared  the  streets,  our  young  troop- 
ers then  called  at  the  houses  of  their  friends  ; asked 
the  news;  and  drank  their  grog  with  great  unconcern. 

The  British,  after  having  for  some  time  vainly 
looked  for  Marion,  began  to  smell  the  trick,  and  in 
great  wrath  sallied  forth  for  vengeance.  Our  adven- 
turers then,  in  turn,  were  fain  to  scamper  off  as  fast 
as  they  had  made  the  others  before,  but  with  better 
success ; for  though  hundreds  of  muskets  were  fired 
after  them,  they  got  clear  without  receiving  a scratch. 

But  nothing  ever  so  mortified  the  British,  as  did 
this  mad  frolic.  “ That  half  a dozen  d-n-d  young 
rebels,”  they  said,  “ should  thus  dash  in  among  us  in 
open  daylight,  and  fall  to  cutting  and  slashing  the 
king's  troops  at  this  rate.  And  after  all,  to  gallop 
away  without  the  least  harm  in  hair  or  hide.  5Tis 
high  time  to  turn  our  bayonets  into  pitch  forks,  and 
go  to  foddering  the  cows.” 


CHAPTER  XX. 

His  tori/  of  captain  Snipes — wanton  destruction  of  his 
property  by  thetories — his  own  miraculous  escape- 
admirable  fidelity  of  his  negro  driver  Cudjo . 

CAPTAIN  SNIPES,  who  made  such  a figure  in 
the  wars  of  Marion,  was  a Carolinian,  of  uncommon 
strength  and  courage  ; both  of  which  he  exerted  with 
great  good  will,  against  the  British  and  tories  ; from 
principle  partly,  and  partly  from  revenge . But  though 
a choice  soldier,  he  was  no  philosopher.  He  did  not 
consider  that  to  fight  for  duty,  people  must  love  it  • 


1G4 


the  life  of 

JerstlnJut6  S ***  ^ Understand  * ; that  to  un- 
that  the  &ACy  TS*  P°SSeSS  ktters  and  religion: 
neither  of th™ t0neS’  P00/  felI™s  •'  possessing 

neitner  of  these,  were  not  to  have  been  expected  tr, 

did &aJt  ° and  th^  SaVage  and  thievish  part  they 

than  the’ r^tf  th7efore’  ,no  more  to  he  hated  for  it 
than  the  cats  are  for  teazmg  the  canary  birds. 

of^  sCrm  Kn  pei  hiad  T t-,rn  for  investigations 
h , rrl-  Knowledge,  by  intuition,  was  all  that 

En^reb  f°r;  anu  havinS  >t,  by  instinct,  that  an 

no^  fnS« Tn  °-USht  neV-Cr  t0  fiSht  aSainst  liberty,” 
i i , American  against  his  own  country,”  he 
looked  on  them,  to  use  his  own  phrase,  as  a*  pack 

t;nd'r'd  rascals,  whom  it  was  doing  God  service  to 
kill  wherever  he  could  find  them.” 

But  Snipes  was  not  the  aggressor.  He  kept  in 

dTdryineC;/nt1^  1111  *?  eneniy  be&an  to  Iet  °«,  afthev 
did,  m plundering burning , and  hanging  the  poor 

whigs  ; and  then,  indeed,  like  a consuming  fire ? his 
smothered  hate  broke  forth : ° 5 

“ Th!“‘a[e  ™hich,h"rleJ  to  Pluto’s  gloomy  reign. 

The  souls  of  royal  slaves  untimely  slain.’’ 

Afraid,  in  fair  fight,  to  meet  that  sword  which  had 
so  often  shivered  their  friends,  they  determined  to 
take  him  as  the  Philistines  did  Sampson,  by  surprise  • 
and  having  learned  from  their  spies,  that  he  was  ai 
home,  they  came  upon  him  in  force  about  midnight 
His  complete  destruction,  both  of  life  and  property 
was  their  horrid  aim.  Happily,  his  driver,  or  black 
overseer,  overheard  their  approach  ; and  flying  to  his 
master  with  terror-struck  looks,  cries  out  “ Run ! run  .' 
tnassa,  run  1 de  enemy  ’pon  you.” 

Snipes,  stark  naked,  save  his  shirt,  darted  out  a* 
swift  as  his  legs  could  carry  him. 

‘ But  where  shall  I fun,  Cudjo  ? into  the  bam  ?” 

« w u °’,massf  ’ dey  burn  de  barn,  dat  sure  ting !” 
t<  ™ ell,whereshall  I run  then  ?” 

“ Take  de  bush  massa ! take  de  brier  bush.” 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


165 


Within  fifty  yards  of  the  house  was  a clump  of 
briers,  so  thick  set,  that  one  would  have  thought  a 
frightened  cat  would  scarcely  have  squeezed  herself 
into  it  from  the  hot  pursuing  dogs.  But  what  will 
not  fear  enable  a man  to  do  ? Captain  Snipes,  big  as 
he  was,  slipped  into  it  with  the  facility  of  a weasel 
through  the  chinks  of  a chicken-coop  ; but  lost  every 
thread  and  thrum  of  his  shirt ; and  moreover,  got 
his  hide  so  scratched  and  torn  by  the  briers,  that  the 
blood  trickled  from  him  fast  as  gravy  from  a fat 
green  goose. 

Scarcely  had  he  gained  his  hiding-place,  before  the 
tories,  with  horrid  oaths,  burst  into  his  house,  with 
their  guns  cocked,  ready  to  shoot  him.  But  oh ! 
death  to  their  hopes  ! he  was  gone  : the  nest  was  there, 
and  warm,  but  the  bird  was  flown ! 

Then  seizing  poor  Cudjo  by  the  throat,  they  bawl- 
ed out:  “ You  d — d rascal,  where’s  your  master?” 

He  told  them  he  did  not  know. 

w You  lie  ! you  black  son  of  a b-t-h  ! you  lie.” 

But  he  still  asserted  he  knew  nothing  of  his  master. 

Suspecting  that  he  must  be  in  some  one  or  other 
of  his  buildings,  they  set  fire  to  them  all ; to  his 
dwelling  house,  his  kitchen,  his  stables,  and  even  his 
negro  cabins,  watching  all  the  while,  with  their 
muskets  ready  to  choot  him  as  he  ran  out.  From 
their  nearness  to  his  lurking  place,  the  heat  of  his 
burning  houses  was  so  intense  as  to  parch  his  skin 
into  blisters.  But  it  was  death  to  stir,  for  he  would 
certainly  have  been  seen. 

Not  having  made  the  discovery  they  so  much  wish- 
ed, they  again  seized  Cudjo  ; and,  with  their  cocked 
pieces  at  his  breast,  swore  if  he  did  not  instantly  tell 
them  where  his  master  was,  they  would  put  him  to 
death. 

He  still  declared  he  did  not  know  where  he  was. 

Then  they  clapped  a halter  round  his  neck,  and  told 


166 


THE  LIFE  OF 

Um  to  “down  on  his  knees,  and  say  his  praters  at 
once,  tor  he  had  but  two  minutes  to  live  f” 

He  replied  that  he  “ did  not  want  to  say  his 
prayers  now,  for  that  he  was  no  thief,  and  had  always 
been  a true  slave  to  his  master.” 

This  fine  sentiment  of  the  poor  black  was  entirely 
lost  on  our  malignant  whites ; who,  throwing  the  end 
ol  the  halter  over  the  limb  of  an  oak,  tucked  him  up 
as  though  he  had  been  a mad  dog.  He  hung  till  he 
was  nearly  dead;  when  one  of  them  called  out, 
id  ^n  him,  cut  him  down,  I’ll  be  bound  he’ll  tell  us 
now.  Cudjo  was  accordingly  cut  down ; and,  as 
soon  as  a little  recovered,  questioned  again  about  his 
master.  But  he  still  declared  he  knew  nothing  of  him. 
He  was  then  hoisted  a second  times  and  a second  time 
when  nearly  dead,  cut  down  and  questioned  as  before  : 
but  still  asserted  his  ignorance.  The  same  inhuman 
part  was  acted  on  him  a third  time,  but  with  no  better 
success ; for  the  brave  fellow  still  continued  faithful 
to  his  master,  who  squatted  and  trembled  in  his  place 
of  torment,  hie  brier  bush,  and  saw  and  heard  all  that 
was  passing. 

Persuaded  now  that  Cudjo  really  knew  nothin-  of 
his  master,  they  gave  up  the  shameful  contest, °and 
went  off,  leaving  him  half  dead  on  the  ground  but 
covered  with  glory. 

It  is  not  easy  to  conceive  a situation  more  severely 
torturmgthan  this  of  captain  Snipes.  His  house,  with 
ah  his  furniture,  his  kitchen,  his  barn  and  rice-stacks 
his  stables,  with  several  fine  horses,  and  his  negro- 
houses,  all  wrapped  in  flames  ; himself  scorched  and 
blistered  with  the  furious  heat,  yet  not  daring  to  stir; 
ms  retreat  well  known  to  a poor  slave;  and  that 
siaye  alone,  in  the  hands  of  an  enraged  banditti,  with 
their  muskets  at  his  breast,  imprecating  the  most  hor- 
rid curses  on  themselves,  if  they  did  not  instantly 
muraer  him  unless  he  disclosed  the  secret ! What 
had  he  to  expect  of  this  poor  slave,  but  that  he  would 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


16  7 


sink  under  the  dreadful  trial,  and  to  save  himself, 
would  sacrifice  his  master.  But  Snipes  was  safe.  To 
discover  his  hiding-place,  death  stared  his  slave  in 
the  face,  but,  happily,  his  slave  possessed  for  him  that 
u love  which  is  stronger  than  death.” 

Captain  Snipes  and  his  man  Cudjo  had  been  brought 
up  from  childhood  together ; and  the  father  of  our 
hero  being  a professor  of  Christianity,  a Baptist 
preacher,  whose  main  excellence  is  u to  teach  little 
children  to  love  one  another,”  had  taken  great  pains 
to  inspire  his  son  with  love  towards  his  little  slave. 
Nor  did  that  love  pass  unrequited.  For  Cudjo  used 
every  day  to  follow  his  young  master  to  school,  cai 
lying  his  basket  for  him,  prattling  as  he  went;  and 
smiling,  would  remind  him  of  the  coming  Saturday , 
and  what  fine  fishing  and  hunting  they  would  have  that 
day.  Many  a time  had  they  wrestled,  and  slept  side 
by  side  on  the  green  ; and  thence  springing  up  again 
with  renovated  strength,  set  out  in  full  march  for  some 
favourite  fruit  tree,  or  some  cooling  pond,  there  to 
swim  and  gambol  in  the  refreshing  flood.  And  when 
the  time  of  dinner  came,  Cudjo  was  not  scornfully 
left  to  sigh  and  to  gnaw  his  nails  alone,  but  would 
play  and  sing  about  the  door  till  his  young  master 
was  done,  and  then  he  was  sure  to  receive  a good 
plate  full  for  himself.  Love,  thus  early  ingrafted  on 
his  heart,  grew  up  with  daily  increasing  strength  to 
manhood  ; when  Snipes,  by  the  death  of  his  father, 
became  master  of  the  estate,  made  Cudjo  his  driver 
or  overseer,  and  thus  rivetted  on  his  honest  bosom 
that  sacred friendship  which,  as  we  have  seen,  enabled 
him  to  triumph  in  one  of  the  severest  trials  that  hu- 
man nature  was  ever  put  to. 

The  above  is  a solemn  fact,  and  the  wise  will  lay 
it  to  heart. 


168 


THE  LIFE  OF 


CHAPTER  XXL 

Marion  pursues  major  Mucklezvorth — -fine  anecdote  of 
the  major — Marion's  generosity  to  him . 

LEARNING  that  a detachment  of  the  British  were 
marching  up  Black  river  towards  Statesburgh  and 
Camden,  general  Marion  gave  orders  to  chase  ; which 
was  conducted,  as  usual,  with  such  rapidity,  that 
about  sunset  of  the  second  day  we  came  up  with  them. 
Our  advance , composed  of  choice  fellows,  instantly 
began  to  skirmish  with  the  enemy,  of  whom  they 
killed  eight  or  nine.  A few  on  both  sides,  rather 
badly  wounded,  were  made  prisoners.  Marion, 
coming  up,  gave  orders  to  call  off  the  troops,  meaning 
to  give  the  enemy  a serious  brush  in  the  morning. — 
But  of  this  gratification  they  entirely  disappointed  us, 
oy  striking  their  tents  and  pushing  off  in  silence  be- 
fore day. 

Soon  as  light  returned,  and  the  retreat  of  the  British 
was  announced,  we  renewed  the  pursuit ; and  by  late 
breakfast-time,  reached  the  house  at  which  the  enemy 
had  refreshed  themselves.  This  house  belonged  to  a 
poor,  but  excellent  old  lady,  well  known  to  Marion. 

The  general  was  hardly  alighted  from  his  horse,  be- 
fore the  old  lady  had  him  by  the  hand,  declaring  how 
happy  she  had  always  been  to  see  him,  “ but  now,u 
continued  she,  “ if  I an’t  right  down  sorry  to  see  you, 
then  I’ll  be  hanged.” 

Marion,  with  a look  of  surprise,  asked  her  why  she 
was  sorry  to  see  him  now . 

“ Oh  ! don’t  I know  you  too  well,  general  ? don’t  I 
know  that  old  Scratch  himself  can’t  keep  you  from 
fighting  P And  now  you  are  hurrying  along  here, 
v/ith  all  your  men,  only  to  fight  the  British.  An’t  it 
so  now,  general  ?” 

Marion  told  her,  that  that  was  indeed  his  business. 

u Well,  dear  me  now ! and  did  I not  tell  you  so  ? 
But  pray  now,  my  dear  general  Marion,  let  me  beg 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


169 


of  you,  don’t  you  do  any  harm  to  that  dear  good  man, 
that  major  Muckle worth,  who  went  from  here  a little 
while  ago:  for  O ! he’s  the  sweetest-spoken,  mildest 
looking,  noblest-spirited  Englishman  I ever  saw  in  all 
my  born  days.'  As  to  that  Rawdon  and  Tartleton, 
God’s  curse  upon  the  thieves  and  blackguards  ! I 
would  not  care  if  you  could  kill  a thousand  of  them . 
Rut  that  good  major  Muckle  worth  ! indeed,  indeed, 
now  general,  you  must  not  hurt  a hair  of  his  head, 
for  it  would  be  such  a crying  sin.” 

Marion  asked  her  in  what  respects  was  he  better 
than  other  British  officers. 

w Better  than  other  British  officers  !”  replied  the  old 
lady. — “Lord  bless  your  dear  soul,  general  Marion! 
Well,  come  along,  come  along  with  me,  and  I’ll  let 
you  see.” 

We  followed  the  old  lady,  who,  tripping  along 
nimble  as  a girl,  conducted  us  into  a clean  looking 
cabin,  wherein  sat  a middle-aged  man  very  genteelly 
dressed,  and  several  wounded  persons  lying  before 
him,  on  pallets  on  the  floor.  Marion  saluted  the 
stranger,  who  informed  us  that  he  was  u a surgeon  in 
the  service  of  his  Britannic  majesty,  and  left  by  major 
Muckleworth  to  take  care  of  the  wounded  ; of  whom, 
sir,  I believe  that  nearly  one  half  are  your  ownmen .” 
Here  the  old  lady’s  face  brightened  up  towards 
Marion  ; and  giving  him  a very  significant  look,  she 
sakl,  u Ah  ha,  general ! didn’t  I tell  you  so  ?” 

Then  diving  her  withered  hand  in  her  pocket,  she 
scooped  up  a shining  parcel  of  English  guineas,  and 
exultingly  cried  out,  “ See  there,  general  ! see  there’s 
a sight  for  you  ? and  every  penny  of  it  given  me  by 
that  dear  good  gentleman,  major  Muckleworth  ; every 
penny  of  it,  sir.  Yes,  and  if  you  will  but  believe  me, 
general,  when  I and  my  daughters  were  getting 
breakfast  for  him  and  his  people,  if  he  didn’t  come 
here  himself  with  his  sergeants,  and  had  this  place 
swept  out  all  so  sweet  and  clean  for  them  poor  sick 
people  5 and,  with  his  own  dear  hands  too,  helped  tl  j 


170 


THE  LIFE  OF 


gendeman  there  to  dress  and  doctor  the  poor  things  ; 
that  he  did. 

“ And  then  besides  all  that,  general,  he  was  such  a 
sweet  spoken  gentleman  ! for  when  I asked  him  how 
his  men  came  to  be  hurt  so,  he  did  not,  like  that  beast 
Tarleton,  turn  black  and  blue  in  the  face,  and  fall  to 
cursing  the  d — d rebels . Oh  no  ! not  he  indeed.  But 
he  said  with  a smile,  We  got  them  wounded  last 
night,  madam,  in  a little  brush  with  your  brave  coun- 
tryman, general  Marion. 

w Now  only  think  of  that,  general ! And  besides, 
when  he  was  going  away,  what  do  you  think  he  did  ? 
Why,  sir,  he  sent  for  me  and  said,  Well,  my  good 
madam,  and  what  shall  I pay  you  for  all  the  trouble 
we  have  given  you,  and  also  for  taking  care  of  the 
doctor  I am  going  to  leave  with  you,  and  the  sick  peo- 
ple, who  may  be  on  your  hands  for  a fortnight  yet? 

“ I told  him  it  was  no  business  of  mine  to  fix  a price. 

“ He  seemed  surprised,  and  asked  me  what  I meant 
by  that. 

I answered  that  I was  now  all  ont  as  his  prisoner , 
and  prisoners  had  nothing  they  could  call  their  own. 

“My  king,  said  he,  madam,  does  not  make  war 
against  widows. 

u I told  him  I wished  to  God  all  his  countrymen  had 
remembered  that ! it  would  have  saved  the  hunger  and 
nakedness,  and  cries  and  tears  of  many  a poor  widow 
and  orphan.  At  this  he  seemed  mightily  hurt. 

“ I then  told  him  that  many  of  the  British  officers, 
after  eating  and  drinking  all  that  they  wanted,  for 
themselves  and  people,  and  horses,  instead  of  turn- 
ing round  to  payr  as  he  had  done,  had  turned  in  to 
plunder , and  then  set  fire  to  the  houses,  not  leaving 
the  widows  and  children  a cover  over  their  heads, 
nor  a bit  of  bread  for  their  mouths,  nor  a stitch  of 
clothes  for  their  backs. 

“ My  God ! said  he,  and  is  this  the  way  that  my 
countrymen  have  come  here  to  carry  on  war  ! Well 
madam,  (so  he  went  on,)  my  king  does  not  know  any 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


171 


thing  of  this,  nor  does  the  English  nation,  I am  sure. 
If  they  did,  they  would  certainly  call  those  officers  to 
account.  Such  men  will  ruin  our  cause.  For  the 
word  of  God  assures  us,  that  his  ear  is  always  open 
to  the  cry  of  the  widow  and  orphan  ; and  believe  me, 
madam,  I dread  their  cry  more  than  I dc  the  shouts 
of  an  enemy’s  army.  However,  madam,  (continued 
he,)  I have  not  a moment  to  lose,  for  I am  sure 
general  Marion  is  pursuing  me  as  hard  as  he  can,  so 
let  me  know  what  1 Qwe  you. 

u I told  him  again,  I made  no  charge  ; but  since  he 
was  so  good  as  to  insist  on  giving  me  something,  I 
begged  to  leave  the  matter  entirely  to  himself.  Upon 
which,  after  a moment’s  study,  he  looked  at  me  and 
said,  Well,  madam,  suppose  we  say  sixpence  sterling 
a-piece  man  and  horse,  all  around,  will  that  do  ? I 
leplied  that  was  too  much,  a great  deal  too  much,  for 
such  a poor  breakfast  as  I had  given  him  and  his 
men.  Not  a penny  too  much , madam , said  he,  live  and 
let  live  is  the  royal  law,  madam,  and  here’s  your  mo- 
ney. With  that  he  put  all  these  guineas  here,  into 
my  hand ! and  said  moreover,  that  if  the  doctor  and 
sick  people  should  be  longer  with  me,  and  give  me 
more  trouble  and  cost  than  we  had  counted  on,  then  1 
must  send  a note  to  him,  at  such  a house  in  Charles- 
ton, and  he  would  send  me  the  money.  And  now, 
general,  would  it  not  be  a burning  shame  to  go  kill 
such  a dear  good  gentleman  as  that  ?” 

Marion  listened  with  delight  to  the  old  lady’s  his- 
tory of  this  amiable  officer;  but  on  her  leaving  him 
to  hasten  our  breakfast,  he  looked  very  pensive,  and 
at  a loss  what  to  do.  However,  as  soon  as  the  troops 
were  refreshed,  he  ordered  my  brother,  colonel  H. 
Horry,  who  led  the  advance,  to  remount,  arid  push 
after  the  enemy  with  all  speed.  We  followed  close 
in  the  rear.  For  an  hour  the  general  did  not  open 
his  mouth,  but*rode  on  like  one  absorbed  in  thought. 
At  length,  heaving  a deep  sigh,  he  said  u W ell,  I sup- 


172 


THE  LIFE  OF 


pose  I feel  now  very  much  as  I should  feel,  were  I 
in  pursuit  of  a brother  to  kill  him.” 

About  three  o’clock  our  advance  came  up  with  the 
enemy,  near  the  wealthy  and  hospitable  captain  John 
Singleton’s  mills,  where  the  firing  instantly  com- 
menced, and  was  as  spiritedly  returned  by  the  British, 
still  retreating.  Our  marksmen  presently  stopped  one 
of  Muckle worth’s  captains,  and  several  of  his  men, 
who  lay  dead  on  the  ground  at  the  very  spot  where 
we  happened  to  join  the  advar^ce.  The  sight  of  these 
poor  fellows  lying  in  their  blood,  gave  the  general’s 
wavering  mind  the  casting  vote  in  favour  of  generosi- 
ty ; for  he  immediately  cried  out,  “ Call  off  the  troops  l 
call  off  the  troops  /”  Then  turning  to  his  aid  he  said, 
u I cannot  stand  it  any  longer ; we  owe  yon  English- 
men to  our  injured  country;  but  there  is  an  angel 
that  guards  them.  Ten  righteous  Lots  would  have 
saved  Sodom.  One  generous  Muckle  worth  shall  save 
this  handful.  Let  us  turn  and  fight  other  enemies.” 

The  general’s  orders  were  quickly  passed  on  to  the 
troops  to  cease  firing.  And  to  their  credit  be  it 
spoken,  they  never,  I believe,  obeyed  his  orders  with 
more  alacrity  than  on  this  occasion.  Indeed  I heard 
many  of  them  say,  afterwards,  that  major  Muckle- 
worth’s  generosity  to  their  wounded  comrades  and 
to  the  poor  widow,  had  so  won  their  hearts  to  him, 
that  they  had  none  left  wherewith  to  fight  against 
him  ; and  they  said  also,  that,  for  their  parts,  they 
had  rather  kill  a thousand  such  savages  as  Rawdon 
and  Taileton,  than  hurt  a hair  of  major  Muckle- 
worth’s  head. 

From  the  effect  produced  on  our  troops,  by  this 
amiable  officer’s  conduct,  I have  been  often  led  to 
think  favourably  of  a saying  common  with  Marion, 
viz.  had  the  British  officers  but  acted  as  became  a 
wise  and  magnanimous  enemy,  they  might  easily 
have  recovered  the  revolted  colonies. 

Never  did  the  pulse  of  love  towards  a parent  state 
beat  stronger  in  human  bosoms,  than  in  those  of  the 


fcRN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


173 


Carolinians  towards  Britain.  We  looked  on  her  as 
indeed  our  mother,  and  on  her  children  as  our  bro- 
thers. And  ah  ! had  their  government  but  treated 
us  with  correspondent  kindness,  Carolina  would  have 
been  with  them  to  a man.  Had  they  said  to  the  peo- 
ple, as  they  might  easily  have  done,  (for  there  was  a 
time,  and  a long  time  too,  when  the  whole  state  was 
entirely  at  their  feet,)  had  they  then  said  to  us,  u We 
are  far  richer,  far  stronger,  than  you ; we  can  easily 
burn  your  houses,  take  your  provisions,  carry  off  your 
cattle,  and  sweep  your  country  with  the  besom  of 
destruction;  but  we  abhor  the  idea.  Your  houses, 
your  women,  your  children,  are  all  sacred  in  our  eyes ; 
and  even  of  your  goods  we  will  touch  nothing  with- 
out giving  you  a reasonable  price.”  Had  they  hut 
said  this,  Carolina  would,  to  a certainty,  have  been 
divorced  irom  Congress,  and  re-wedded  to  Britain. 

We  may  lay  what  emphasis  we  please  on  the  term 
countrymen , countrymen  ! but  after  all,  as  Christ  says, 
“ he  is  our  countryman  who  showeth  mercy  unto  us.” 

A British  officer,  a major  Muckleworth,  for  exam- 
ple, calls  at  my  plantation,  and  takes  my  fine  horses 
and  fat  beeves,  my  pigs,  poultry  and  grain ; but  at 
parting,  launches  out  for  me  a fist  full  of  yellow  boys  ! 
On  the  other  hand,  an  American  officer  calls  and 
sweeps  me  of  every  thing,  and  then  lugs  oat  a bundle 
of  continental  prcc  / such  trash,  that  hardly  a cow 
would  give  a corn  shock  for  a horse  load  of  it. 

The  Englishman  leaves  me  richer  than  he  found 
me,  and  abler  to  educate  and  provide  for  my  chil- 
dren: the  American  leaves  me  and  my  family  half 
ruined.  Now  I wish  to  know  where,  in  such  a self- 
ish world  as  this,  where  is  there  a man  in  a million, 
but  would  take  part  with  the  generous  Englishman, 
and  fight  for  him  ? 

This  was  the  theory  of  Marion ; and  it  was  the 
practice  of  Muckleworth,  whom  it  certainly  saved  to 
the  British;  and  would,  if  universal,  have  saved  Ca- 
rolina and  Georgia  to  them  too : and  perhaps,  all 
P 2 


174 


THE  LIFE  OF 


America.  But  so  little  idea  had  they  of  this  mode  of 
conciliating'  to  conquer , that  when  the  good  major 
Muckle worth  returned  to  Charleston,  he  was  hooted 
at  by  the  British  officers,  who  said  he  might  do  well 
enough  for  a chaplain,  or  a methodist  preacher,  for 
what  they  knew,  but  they’d  be  d — n — d if  he  were  fit 
to  be  a British  major. 

The  truth  is,  such  divine  philosophy  was  too  refined 
for  such  coarse  and  vulgar  characters,  as  Cornwallis, 
Rawdon,  Tarleton,  Balfour,  and  Weymies  ; monsters 
who  disgraced  the  brave  and  generous  nation  they 
represented,  and  completely  damned  the  cause  they 
were  sent  to  save.  But  what  better  was  to  have  been 
expected  of  those,  who,  from  early  life,  if  tradition 
say  true,  discovered  a total  dislike  to  the  ennobling 
pleasures  of  literature  and  devotion,  but  a boundless 
passion  for  the  brutalizing  sports  of  the  bear-garden 
and  cockpit  ? Bull-baiters,  cock-fighters,  and  dog 
worriers,  turned  officers,  had  no  idea  of  conquering 
the  Americans,  but  by  u cutting  their  throats  or 
knocking  out  their  brains  ;”  or  as  the  tender  hearted 
Cornwallis  commanded,  by  w hanging  them,  and  tak- 
ing away,  or  destroying  their  goods.” 

Now  Satan  himself  could  have  counselled  my  lord 
bettei  than  that ; as  any  man  may  see,  who  will  but 
open  his  bible  and  turn  to  the  book  of  Job,  chap,  the 
1st,  verse  6th,  and  so  on.  There  Moses  informs , that 
when  Satan,  whose  effrontery  is  up  to  any  thing,  pre- 
sented himself  at  the  grand  levee , the  Almighty  very 
civilly  asked  him,  (now  mind  that,  saints,  in  your 
speech  to  poor  sinners) — the  Almighty,  I say,  very 
civilly  asked  him  w where  he  had  been  of  late.” 

To  this,  his  royal  highness,  the  brimstone  king,  re- 
plied, that  he  hud  been  only  taking  a turn  or  two  u up 
and  down  the  earth.” 

The  divine  voice  again  interrogated:  u Hast  thou 
considered  my  servant  Job  ? an  excellent  man,  is  he 
not  ; one  who  xeareth  Gwd  and  escheweth  evil  Vy 
' * Job’s  well  enough,”  replied  Satan,  rather  pertly, 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


its 


u but  where’s  the  wonder  of  all  that  ? You  have  done 
great  things  for  the  fellow  ; you  have  planted  a hedge 
around  him,  and  around  all  that  he  hath  on  every  side. 
You  have  blessed  the  works  of  his  hands,  and  his 
substance  is  increased  i n the  land  ; and  if,  after  all 
this,  he  cannot  afford  you  a little  gratitude,  he  must 
be  a poor  devil  indeed.  But  put  forth  thine  hand  now, 
and  touch  all  that  he  hath , and  he'11  curse  thee  to  thu 
face.” 

This  was  the  devil’s  logic  as  to  Job  : but  the  British 
general  had  not  the  wit  to  reason  in  that  style  towards 
the  Americans.  For  my  lord  Cornwallis  said  unto 
my  lord  Rawdon  ; and  my  lord  Rawdon  said  unto 
my  would-be  lord,  colonel  Tarleton;  and  colonel 
Tarleton  said  unto  major  Weymies  ; and  major 
Weymies  said  unto  Will  Cunningham,  and  unto  the 
British  soldiers  with  their  tory  negro  allies ; u Put 
forth  your  hands,  boys,  and  burn,  and  plunder  the 
d-n-d  rebels  ; and  instead  of  cursing  you  to  your  face, 
they  will  fall  down  and  kiss  your  feet.” 

“ Experience,”  says  Doctor  Franklin,  w is  a dear 
school ; but  fools  will  learn  in  no  other,  and  hardly 
m that.”  And  what  right  had  lord  North  to  expect 
success  in  America,  when  for  officers  he  sent  such 
fools  as  would  take  no  lesson  either  from  God  or  devil. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

Colonel  Watson  attempts  to  surprise  Marion — is  out - 
generated,  and  after  much  loss  driven  back  to  George- 
town. 

IN  consequence  of  his  incessant  attacks  on  the 
British  and  tories,  Marion  was,  I believe,  heartily 
hated  by  them,  as  ever  Sampson  was  by  the  Philis- 
tines, or  George  White  field  by  the  devil.  Numerous 
were  the  attempts  made  by  their  best  officers  to  surr 
prist;  him;  but  such  whs  his  own  vigilance  and  the 
fidelity  pf  his  whig  friends,  that  he  seldom  failed  to 


176 


THE  LIFE  OF 


get  the  first  blow  at  them,  and  to  take  their  unwary 
feet  in  the  same  evil  net  which  they  had  spread  for  him. 

His  method  to  anticipate  the  meditated  malice  of 
his  enemies,  is  well  worthy  of  notice.  He  always  had 
in  his  service  a parcel  of  active  young  men,  generally 
selected  from  the  best  whig  families,  and  of  tried 
courage  and  fidelity.  These,  mounted  on  the  swiftest 
horses,  he  would  station  in  the  neighbourhood  of  those 
places  where  the  British  and  tories  were  embodied  in 
force,  as  Camden,  Georgetown,  &c.  with  instructions 
to  leave  no  stratagem  untried  to  find  out  the  intended 
movements  of  the  enemy.  Instantly  as  this  informa- 
tion was  obtained,  (whether  by  climbing  tall  trees 
that  overlooked  the  garrisons,  or  from  friends  acting 

- as  market  people)  they  were  to  mount  and  push  off 
at  full  speed  to  the  nearest  of  a chain  of  posts  estab- 
lished at  short  and  convenient  distances,  with  fleet 
horses  ready  saddled  and  bridled,  to  bear  the  intelli- 
gence with  equal  speed,  the  first  to  the  second,  the 
second  to  the  third,  and  so  on.  In  this  expeditious 
method,  as  by  a telegraph,  Marion  was  presently  no- 
tified of  the  designs  of  the  enemy.  Of  the  exceeding 
importance  of  such  a plan,  we  had  a very  striking 
proof  at  this  time.  Exasperated  against  Marion,  for 
the  infinite  harm  he  did  the  royal  cause  in  Carolina, 
the  British  general,  in  Camden,  determined  to  surprise 
him  at  his  old  place  of  retreat,  Snow’s  Island;  and 
thus  destroy  or  break  him  up  completely.  To  this  end 
he  despatched  a couple  of  favourite  officers,  colonels 
Watson  and  Doyle,  with  a heavy  force,  both  cavalry 
and  infantry,  to  seize  the  lower  bridge  on  Black  river, 
and  thereby  effectually  prevent  our  escape.  Bu  'he 
vigilance  and  activity  of  his  scouts  frustrated  this 

- well-concerted  plan  entirely.  Getting  early  notice  of 
this  manoeuvre  by  captain,  now'  general  Canty,  Ma- 
rion instantly  started  his  troops,  composed  chiefly  of 
mounted  riflemen  and  light  dragoons,  and  pushed  hard 
for  the  same  point.  By  taking  a nearer  cut,  we  had 
the  good  fortune  to  gain  the  bridge  before  the  enemy; 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


1 77 


and  having  destroyed  it  as  soon  as  we  crossed,  we 
concealed  ourselves  in  the  dark  swamp,  anxiously 
waiting  their  arrival.  In  a short  time,  they  came  in 
full  view  on  the  opposite  hill,  and  there  encamped. — • 
Presently,  unapprehensive  of  danger,  for  they  saw 
nothing  of  us,  two  of  their  men  came  down  for  water 
to  the  river.  Unable  to  resist  such  a temptation,  two 
of  our  noted  marksmen  instantly  drew  their  sights  and 
let  fly.  The  two  Englishmen  fell ; one  of  them  was 
killed  dead  ; the  other  badly  wounded,  and  so  fright- 
ened, that  he  bellowed  like  a bull-calf  for  help.  Seve- 
ral of  his  gallant  comrades  ran  to  his  assistance,  but 
they  were  shot  down  as  fast  as  they  got  to  him. 

The  next  morning  colonel  Watson  sent  a flag  over 
to  Marion,  whom  he  charged  with  carrying  on  war  in 
a manner  entirely  different  from  all  civilized  nations. 
“ Why  sir,”  said  he  to  Marion,  u you  must  certainly 
command  a horde  of  savages,  who  delight  in  nothing 
but  murder.  I can’t  cross  a swamp  or  a bridge,  but  I 
am  waylaid  and  shot  at  as  if  I were  a mad  dog. 
Even  my  sentries  are  fired  at  and  killed  on  their 
posts.  Why,  my  God,  sir  ! this  is  not  the  way  that 
Christians  ought  to  fight !” 

To  this  Marion  replied,  that  “he  was  sorry  to  be 
obliged  to  say,  that  from  what  he  had  known  of  them, 
the  British  officers  were  the  last  men  on  earth  who 
had  any  right  to  preach  about  honour  and  humanity , 
That  for  men  to  come  three  thousand  miles  t ) plun- 
der and  hang  an  innocent  people,  and  then  to  tell  that 
people  how  they  ought  to  fight,  betrayed  an  ignorance 
and  impudence  which  he  fain  would  hope  had  no  pa- 
rallel in  the  history  of  man.  That  for  his  part,  he  al- 
ways believed,  and  still  did  believe  that  he  should  be 
doing  God  and  his  country  good  service  to  surprise 
and  kill  such  men,  while  they  continued  this  diaboli- 
cal warfare,  as  he  would  the  wolves  and  panthers  of 
*he  forest.” 

Thus  ended  the  correspondence  for  that  time. 

While  things  remained  in  this  state  between  the 


178 


THE  LIFE  OF 


hostile  parties,  Macdonald,  as  usual,  was  employing 
himself  in  a close  and  bold  reconnoitre  of  the  enemy’s 
camp.  Having  found  out  the  situation  of  their  sen- 
tries, and  the  times  of  relieving  them,  he  climbed  up 
into  a bushy  tree,  and  thence,  with  a musket  loaded 
with  pistol  bullets,  cracked  away  at  their  guard 
as  they  passed  by;  of  whom  he  killed  one  man,  and 
badly  wounded  the  lieutenant,  whose  name  was  Tor- 
quano ; then  sliding  down  the  tree,  he  mounted  his 
swift-footed  Selim,  and  made  his  escape. 

The  next  morning  colonel  Watson  sent  another  flag 
to  Marion,  requesting  that  he  would  grant  a passport 
to  his  lieutenant  Torquano,  who  was  badly  wounded, 
and  wished  to  be  carried  to  Charleston.  On  receiving 
the  flag,  which  happened  while  I was  by  him,  Marion 
turned  to  me,  and  with  a smile  said,  u Well,  this  note 
of  colonel  Watson  looks  a little  as  if  he  were  coming 
to  his  senses.  But  who  is  lieutenant  Torquano?” 

I replied  that  he  was  a young  Englishman,  who  had 
been  quartered  in  Charleston,  at  the  house  of  that 
good  whig  lady,  Mrs.  Brainford  and  her  daughters, 
whom  he  had  treated  very  politely,  and  often  pro- 
tected from  insults. 

“ Well,”  said  he, u if  that  be  lieutenant  Torquano,  he 
must  be  a very  clever  fellow  ; and  shall  certainly  have 
a passport  to  Charleston,  or  even  to  Paradise,  if  I 
had  the  keys  of  St.  Peter.” 

On  repassing  Black  river  in  haste,  Macdonald  had 
left  his  clothes  behind  him  at  a poor  woman’s  house, 
where  the  enemy  seized  them.  By  the  return  of  the 
flag  justjuentioned,  he  sent  word  to  colonel  Watson, 
that  if  he  did  not  immediately  send  back  his  clothes, 
he  would  kill  eight  of  his  men  to  pay  for  them. 

Several  of  Watson’s  officers  who  were  present  when 
the  message  was  delivered,  advised  him' by  all  means 
to  return  nis  clothes,  for  that  they  knew  him  to  be  a 
most  desperate  fellow , one  who  would  stop  at  nothing 
< he  set  his  head,  upon;  witness  his  late  daring  act  o^ 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


179 


climbing  like  a cougar,  into  a tree,  to  kill  his  passing 
enemies.  Watson  sent  him  back  his  wallet  of  clothes. 

Soon  after  this,  the  enemy  decamped  silently  in 
the  night,  and  took  the  road  towards  Santee.  On  the 
return  of  day  announcing  their  flight,  Marion  order- 
ed me  to  take  the  mounted  riflemen,  thirty  in  number, 
with  fifty  horse,  and  pursue  and  harass  the  enemy  as 
much  as  possible,  till  he  could  come  up  with  the  in- 
fantry. 

About  night  I approached  their  encampment,  and 
halted  in  a neighbouringswamp  ; whence  I continued 
to  send  out  small  parties,  frequently  relieved,  with 
orders  to  pop  away  at  their  sentinels,  and  keep  them 
alarmed  and  under  arms  all  night.  At  daybreak 
they  pushed  hard  for  the  sandpit  bridge.  W e follow- 
ed close  in  the  rear,  constantly  firing  on  them  from 
every  thicket  and  swamp  ; and  often,  in  spite  of  their 
field  pieces,  making  false  charges.  Never  did  I see 
a body  of  infantry  ply  their  legs  so  briskly.  The 
rogues  were  constantly  in  a dog  trot,  except  when  they 
occasionally  halted  to  give  us  a blast,  which  they  did 
from  their  whole  line.  But  though  their  bullets  made 
a confounded  whizzing  and  clatter  among  the  branches 
over  our  heads,  yet  thank  God  they  did  no  harm,  save 
that  of  scratching  some  three  or  four  of  us. 

On  coming  within  a few  miles  of  it,  we  made  a 
rapid  push  for  the  bridge,  which  we  quickly  rendered 
impassable,  by  throwing  off  the  plank  and  sleepers. 
Then  having  posted  my  riflemen  in  the  thick  woods, 
within  fifty  yards  of  the  ford,  under  command  of 
lieutenant  Scott,  I drew  up  my  cavalry  close  in  the 
rear,  and  waited  impatiently  for  the  enemy,  hoping  to 
give  a handsome  Bunker’s  Hill  account  of  them. 

The  enemy  were  presently  in  sight,  and  formed  in 
close  column,  began  to  push  through  the  fording 
place,  though  full  waist  deep.  My  heart  now  throb- 
bed with  anxiety ; looking  every  moment  for  a stream 
of  fire  to  burst  upon  the  British,  spreading  destruction 
through  their  ranks. 


180 


THE  LIFE  OF 


But,  to  my  infinite  mortification,  no  lightnings 
bursted  forth;  no  thunders  roared;  no  enemy  fell. 
As,  half  choked  with  grief  and  rage,  I looked  around 
for  the  cause,  behold  ! my  brave  lieutenant  Scott,  at 
the  head  of  the  riflemen,  came  stooping1  along  with 
his  gun  in  his  hand,  and  the  black  marks  of  shame 
and  cowardice  on  his  sheepish  face.  u Infamous  pol- 
troon” said  I,  shaking  my  sword  over  his  head, 
u rv here  is  that  hecatomb  of  robbers  and  murderers  due 
to  the  vengeance  of  your  injured  coun  try  ?” 

Fie  began  to  stammer  out  some  apology,  which  I 
quickly  suppressed,  by  ordering  him  out  of  my  sight. 
It  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  his  men,  instead  of  apo- 
logising for  him,  called  him  a coward  to  his  face,  and 
declared  that  it  was  he  who  had  restrained  them  by 
telling  them  they  were  flanked  by  the  enemy,  who 
would  assuredly  cut  them  to  pieces  if  they  fired  a shot. 

As  the  advance  of  the  British  were  thus  undisturb- 
edly passing  on,  a heavy  firing  was  suddenly  heard  in 
the  rear.  It  was  Marion ; who,  having  come  up  with 
the  enemy,  had  attacked  him  with  great  fury.  The 
British  did  not  halt,  but  continued  a running  fight 
through  the  woods  till  they  gained  the  open  fields; 
where,  by  means  of  their  artillery,  they  kept  us  at  a 
distance.  In  this  rencontre,  W atson  had  his  horse  kill- 
ed under  him,  and  left  about  twenty  of  his  men  dead 
on  the  ground.  His  wounded  filled  several  wagons 
He  did  not  halt  a moment,  but  pushed  hard  for 
Georgetown  ; and  late  at  night  encamped  on  the 
plantation  of  Mr.  Trapier,  to  whom  he  told  a dread- 
ful story  about  Marion  and  his  damned  rebels , who 
would  not,  as  he  said,  sleep  and  fight  like  gentlemen, 
but,  like  savages,  were  eternally  firing  and  whooping 
around  him  by  night;  and  by  day,  waylaying  and 
popping  at  him  from  behind  every  tree  he  went  by. 

As  it  was  too  late  to  pursue  the  enemy,  Marion 
encamped  for  the  night  near  the  field  ot  battle,  and 
\ next  morning  marched  for  his  old  post,  Snow’s  Island, 
where  he  allowed  us  a few  days  of  welcome  repose. 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


181 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Patriotism  of  Mrs . Jenkins — colonel  Watson , colonel 
Doyle , and  the  torzesy  make  alarming  advances  upon 
general  Marion — his  men  begin  to  desert  him — Hor- 
ry turns  orator,  and  harangues  the  troops — they  re- 
peat their  assurances  of  patriotism  and  attachment  to 
Marion — he  dashes  out  again  upon  the  enemy — pros- 
pects brighten — and  the  good  old  cause  begins  to 
look  up  again . 

IT  was  not  for  the  British  and  Marion  to  lie  long 
at  rest  in  the  same  neighbourhood.  After  a short 
repose,  colonel  W atson,  with  a stout  force  of  regulars 
and  tories,  made  an  inroad  upon  Pedee ; which  was 
no  sooner  known  in  our  camp,  than  Marion  pushed 
after  him.  We  presently  struck  their  trail ; and  after 
a handsome  day’s  run,  pitched  our  tents  near  the 
house  of  the  excellent  widow  Jenkins,  and  on  the  very 
spot  which  the  British  had  left  in  the  morning.  Co 
lonel  W atson,  it  seems,  had  taken  his  quarters  that 
night  in  her  house  ; and  learning  that  she  had  three 
sons  with  Marion,  all  active  young  men,  he  sent  for 
her  after  supper,  and  desired  her  to  sit  down  and  take 
a glass  of  wine  with  him.  To  this  request,  a good 
old  lady  of  taste  and  manners  could  have  no  objec- 
tion : so  waiting  upon  the  colonel,  and  taking  a chair 
v/hich  he  handed  her,  she  sat  down  and  emptied  her 
glass  to  his  health.  He  then  commenced  the  follow- 
ing conversation  with  her. 

“ So,  madam,  they  tell  me  you  have  several  sons  in 
general  Marion’s  camp  ; I hope  it  is  not  true.” 

She  said  it  uwas  very  true,  and  was  only  sorry  that 
it  was  not  a thousand  times  truer. 

“ A thousand  times  truer , madam  /”  replied  he  with 
great  surprise,  “ pray  what  can  be  your  meaning  in 
that  P” 

“ Why,  sir,  I am  only  sorry  that  in  place  of  three, 
I have  not  three  thousand  sons  with  general  Marion.” 
u Aye  indeed l well  then,  madam,  begging  your 

Q 


182 


THE  LIFE  OF 


pardon,  you  had  better  send  for  them  immediately 
to  come  in  and  join  his  majesty’s  troops  under  my 
command  : for  as  they  are  rebels  now  in  arms  against 
their  king,  should  they  be  taken  they  will  be  hung  as 
sure  as  ever  they  were  born.” 

u Why,  sir,”  said  the  old  lady,  “ you  are  very  con- 
siderate of  my  sons ; for  which  at  any  rate  I thank 
you.  But,  as  you  have  begged  my  pardon  for  giving 
me  this  advice,  I must  beg  yours  for  not  taking  it. 
My  sons,  sir,  are  of  age,  and  must  and  will  act  for 
themselves.  And  as  to  their  being  in  a state  of  re- 
bellion against  their  king , I must  take  the  liberty,  sir, 
to  deny  that” 

w What , madam  l”  replied  he,  u not  in  rebellion 
against  their  king  ? shooting  at  and  killing  his  majes- 
ty’s subjects  like  wolves  ! don’t  you  call  that  rebellion 
against  their  king,  madam  ?” 

a No,  sir,”  answered  she:  “they  are  only  doing 
their  duty , as  God  and  nature  commanded  them,  sir.” 
u The  d — l they  are , madam 

* Yes,  sir,”  continued  she,  “ and  what  you  and 
every  man  in  England  would  glory  to  do  against  the 
king,  were  he  to  dare  to  tax  you  contrary  to  your 
own  consent  and  the  constitution  of  the  realm.  ’Tis 
the  king,  sir,  who  is  in  rebellion  against  my  sons,  and 
not  they  against  him.  And  could  right  prevail 
against  might,  he  would  as  certainly  lose  his  head,  as 
ever  king  Charles  the  First  did.” 

Colonel  Watson  could  hardly  keep  his  chair  under 
the  smart  of  this  speech : but  thinking  it  would  never 
do  for  a British  colonel  to  be  rude  to  a lady,  he  filled 
her  glass,  and  saying,  “he’d  be  d— n — d if  she  were 
not  a very  plain-spoken  woman  at  any  rate,”  insisted 
she  would  drink  a toast  with  him  for  all. 

She  replied  she  had  no  objection. 

Then  filling  the  glasses  round,  he  looked  at  her 
with  a constrained  smile,  and  said,  “Well,  madam, 
here’s  George  the  Third” 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


1&3 

u With  all  my  heart,  sir  !”  and  turned  off  her  bum- 
per with  a good  grace. 

After  a decent  interval  of  sprightly  conversation, 
he  called  on  the  widow  for  a toast;  who  very  smartly 
retorted,  “ Well,  sir,  here’s  George  Washington  /”  At 
which  he  darkened  a little,  but  drank  it  off  with  an 
officer-like  politeness. 

The  next  morning  early,  we  left  the  good  Mrs. 
Jenkins;  and  burning  with  impatience  to  give  Wat- 
son another  race,  we  drove  on  Jehu-like. 

We  encamped  that  night  almost  within  sight  of  the 
enemy’s  fires  : but  found  them  too  much  on  the  alert 
for  surprise.  We  kept,  however,  a good  look  out,  and 
learning  next  morning,  that  a roosting"  party  were  out, 
Marion  detached  my  brother  colonel  Horry,  with 
some  choice  cavaliers,  to  attack  them  ; which  he  die! 
with  such  spirit,  that  at  the  first  onset  he  killed  nine, 
and  made  the  balance,  sixteen,  all  prisoners.  The 
rogues  were  so  overloaded  with  plunder  that  for 
their  lives  they  could  not  regain  their  camp,  though 
in  full  view  of  it  when  they  were  charged.  This 
brilliant  stroke  of  my  brother,  threw  the  enemy’s 
camp  into  the  utmost  hurry  and  uproar ; and  their 
dragoons  were  quickly  mounted,  dashing  out  to  res- 
cue their  comrades  ; but  in  vain,  for  my  brother 
brought  them  all  off  in  safety  to  our  camp. 

Our  strength  at  this  time  was  far  inferior  to  that  ot 
the  enemy.  But  it  soon  became  alarmingly  reduced. 
For  learning  that,  besides  this  heavy  force  under 
Watson,  there  was  another  from  Camden  under  colo- 
nel Doyle,  and  also  of  mounted  tories  from  Pedee, 
all  in  full  march  against  us,  our  men  took  a panic  and^ 
began  to  desert,  and  those  who  staid  behind  looked 
very  serious,  and  talked  as  if  certain  ruin  both  to 
themselves  and  families  would  follow  from  their  con- 
tinuing to  fight  in  so  hopeless  a cause. 

In  answer  to  these  desponding  gentlemen,  I re 
plied,  that  I was  ashamed  and  grieved  too,  to  hear 
them  talk  at  that  rate. 


184  THE  LIFE  OF 

“ Our  prospects”  said  I,  “ gentlemen,  are  to  be  sure 
,,  d^r^>  yet  thank  God,  they  are  not  despe- 

rftC>  i C ^VC  °^ten  before  now  seen  as  heavy 
clouds  hangingover  us  ; and  yet  with  heaven’s  bless- 
ing on  orrr"ar  ms  those  clouds  have  been  dispersed, 
and  golden  days  restored.  And  who  knows  but  we 
may  shortly  see  it  so  again  ? I am  sure  we  have  good 
reason  to  expect  it;  and  also  to  hope  that  God  will 
assist  us,  whq_  are  only  fighting  to  make  ourselves 
tree  and  happy,  according  to  his  own  most  blessed 
will;  And  will  it  not  be  a most  sweet  cordial  to  your 
spirits  as  long  as  you  live,  to  think  that,  in  such  try- 
ing times  as  these,  you  stood  up  for  your  country, 
and  fought  and  won  for  yourselves  and  children  all 
the  blessings  of  liberty. 

And,  besides,”  said  I,  u do  not  the  tories,  who 
are  more  than  half  the  authors  of  your  misfortunes, 
possess  large  estates  ? And  have  you  not  arms  in  your 
hands,  wherewith  to  pay  yourselves  out  of  their  ill- 
saved  treasures  ?” 

Fhis  speech  seemed  to  raise  their  spirits  a good  deal, 
u *th™nt  to  see  general,  who  with  his  hands 
behind  him,  was  walking  backwards  and  forwards  in 
front  of  his  tent,  meditating  no  doubt  on  the  deser- 
tioix/of  his  men  ; whose  numbers,  from  more  than  two 
hundred,  were  now  reduced  to  less  than  seventy. 

General  Marion,”  said  I,  u I am  sorry  to  tell  you 
that  our  men  are  no w so  fezv  ; especially  since/ ac- 
cording to  report,  we  shall  soon  want  S0  many” 

“ Why,”  replied  he,  “ that  is  the  very  thing  I have 
been  grieving  at ; but  it  will  signify  nothing  for  us  to 
stand  here  sighing  and  croaking ; so  pray  go  and  or- 
der a muster  of  the  men,  that  I may  say  a few  words 
to  them  before  they  all  run  off  and  leave  me.” 

Soon  as  the  troops  were  all  paraded  around  the 
door  of  his  tent,  he  stepped  upon  the  trunk  of  a fall- 
en pine,  and  in  his  plain  but  impressive  manner,  ad- 
dressed us  nearly  as  follows ; 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


185 


tt  Gentlemen  and  fellow-soldiers . 

u It  is  not  for  words  to  express  what  I feel  when  I 
look  around  upon  your  diminished  numbers.  Yester- 
day I commanded  200  men  ; men  whom  I gloried  in, 
and  who  I fondly  thought,  would  have  followed  me 
through  my  dangers  for  their  country.  And,  now, 
when  their  country  most  needs  their  services,  they 
are  nearly  all  gone  ! And  even  those  of  you  who  re- 
main, are,  if  report  be  true,  quite  out  of  heart ; and 
talk,  that  you  and  your  families  must  be  ruined  if  you 
resist  any  longer  ! But,  my  friends,  if  we  shall  be 
ruined  for  bravely  resisting  our  tyrants,  what  will  be 
done  to  us  if  we  tamely  lie  down  and  submit  to  them  ? 
In  that  event,  what  can  we  expect  but  to  see  our  own 
eternal  disgrace,  and  the  wide-spread  ruin  of  our 
country  $ when  our  bravest  and  best  citizens  shall  be 
hung  up  like  dogs,  and  their  property  confiscated  to 
enrich  those  villains  who  deserted  their  country,  and 
joined  her  enemies  ; when  Cornwallis,  Rawdon,  and 
Tarleton,  after  so  long  plundering  and  murdering 
your  friends,  shall,  in  reward  of  such  services,  be  set 
over  you  as  your  governors  and  lord  lieutenants,  with 
princely  salaries  out  of  your  labours;  when  foreign 
bishops  and  their  hireling  clergy  shall  be  poured 
upon  you  like  hosts  of  consecrated  locusts,  consuming 
the  tithes  and  fat  of  the  land  ; when  British  princes, 
and  nobles,  and  judges,  shall  swarm  over  your  devot- 
ed country,  thick  as  eagles  over  a new-fallen  carcass  ; 
when  an  insatiate  king,  looking  on  your  country  as 
his  plantation,  and  on  your  children  as  his  slaves, 
shall  take  away  your  substance,  every  year,  for  his 
pomps  and  pleasures  ; and  to  keep  you  under  for  ever, 
shall  fill  your  land  with  armies  ; and  when  those  ar- 
mies, viewing  you  with  malignant  eyes,  shall  constant- 
ly be  insulting  you  as  conquered  rebels  ; and  under 
pretence  of  discovering  among  you  the  seeds  of  ano- 
ther rebellion,  shall  be  perpetually  harassing  and 
giving  up  to  military  execution  the  best  and  worthiest 
of  your  fellow-citizens  ? 

O 2 


186 


THE  LIFE  OF 


“ Now  my  brave  brethren  in  arms,  is  there  a man 
among  you,  who  can  bear  the  thought  of  living  to  see 
his  dear  country  and  friends  in  so  degraded  and 
wretched  a state  as  this?  If  there  be,  then  let  tha* 
man  leave  me  and  retire  to  his  home.  I ask  not  hi*s 
aid.  But,  thanks  to  God,  I have  now  no  fears  about 
you:  judging  by  your  looks,  I feel  that  there  is  no 
such  man  among  us.  For  my  own  part  I look  upon 
such  a state  of  things  as  a thousand  times  worse  than 
death.  And  God  is  my  judge  this  day,  that  if  I 
could  die  a thousand  deaths,  most  gladly  would  I die 
tnem  all,  rather  than  live  to  see  mv  dear  country  in 
such  a state  of  degradation  and  wretchedness.” 

In  reply  to  this  speech  of  our  honoured  general,  we 
toxd  him,  in  brief,  it  was  on  account  of  his  noble  sen- 
timents we  had  always  so  highly  esteemed  him  ; that 
it  was  on  account  of  these  we  had  already  suffered  so 
much,  and  were  ready  to  suffer  more  ; and  that  rather 
than  see  our  country  in  that  wretched  state  which  he 
had  so  feelingly  described,  and  which,  with  him,  we 
firmly  believed  would  be  the  case  if  the  British  were 
to  get  the  upper  hand,  we  had  made  up  our  minds  to 
fight  by  his  side  to  a glorious  death. 

I never  saw  such  a change  on  the  face  of  a human 
being,  as  then  took  place  on  that  of  Marion.  His 
eyes  sparkled  with  pleasure,  while  in  transport  he 
exclaimed— “ Well,  now  colonel  Doyle,  look  sharp, 
for  you  shall  presently  feel  the  edge  of  our  swords!”’ 
Soon  as  night  came  on  we  mounted,  and  took  the 
swamps  of  Lynche’s  creek,  though  swimming  deep, 
and  after  a long  time  spent  in  plunging  and  splashing 
through  the  dark  floods,  we  got  over,  at  least  about 
two-thirds  of  us.  The  rest,  driven  down  by  the  force 
of  the  current,  were  cast  ashore  on  hills  and  high 
banks,  which  by  the  freshet  were  converted  into 
islands ; and  there  they  continued  whooping  and  hal- 
looing to  each  other  all  night.  When  the  welcome 
light  returned,  they  plunged  again  into  the  furious 
stream,  and  though  swept  down  a good  way  by  the 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


18f 


force  of  the  current,  arrived  safely  on  our  side,  where 
we  had  prepared  some  large  fires  to  dry  their  clothes 
and  muskets,  and  plenty  of  roasted  roots  and  Indian 
cakes  for  breakfast. 

As  God  was  pleased  to  have  it,  none  of  us  lost  our 
lives,  though  many  did  their  great  coats,  blankets,  and 
saddles,  and  some  few  their  pieces.  As  to  myself,  I 
must  needs  say,  I was  never  so  near  the  other  world 
in  my  life.  For,  as  we  were  borne  along  down  the 
Stream  in  the  dark,  my  horse  and  I were  carried  un- 
der the  limb  of  a tree  hung  thick  with  wild  vines, 
which  soon  caught  me  by  the  head  like  Absalom,  and 
there  held  me  fast,  dangling  in  the  furious  flood,  while 
my  horse  was  swept  from  under  me.  I hallooed  for 
some  time  like  a lusty  fellow,  without  getting  any  an- 
swer, which  made  me  begin  to  think  my  chance  was 
bad.  And,  God  forgive  me  for  it ! I could  not  help 
thinking  it  a sad  thing,  that  after  so  many  fierce  frays 
and  hard  knocks  with  the  British  and  tories,  I should 
come  at  last  to  be  choked  like  a blind  puppy,  in  this 
dirty  swamp : but  God  be  praised  for  his  good  angel, 
who  had  brought  me  through  six  dangers,  and  now 
took  me  out  of  the  seventh.  For,  a^  I was  near  giv- 
ing out,  a bold  young  fellow  of  the  company  over- 
heard me  bawling,  and  having  the  advantage  of  a stout 
horse,  dashed  in  and  took  me  safely  o|F. 

I was  afraid  at  first  that  my  horse  was  drowmed — 
but  sagaciously  following  the  rest  o$  the  horses,  he 
made  his  way  good,  but  lost  my  saddle,  great  coat, 
and  clothes.  But  what  grieved  me  most  of  all  was 
the  loss  of  my  holsters,  with  a pair  of  elegant  silver 
mounted  pistols,  a present  from  Macdonald,  and 
which  he  had  taken  from  a British  officer  whom  he 
killed  near  Georgetown. 

Soon  as  our  firearms  were  dried,  and  ourselves  and 
horses  well  refreshed,  we  mounted  and  rode  hard  all 
that  day,  to  surprise  colonel  Doyle.  About  midnight 
we  had  approached  the  house  of  a good  whig,  who 
told  us  that  Doyle  had  been  there,  but  that  warned  bv 


188 


THE  LIFE  OF 


an  express  from  Camden, lie  had  started  in  great  haste, 
and  was  certainly  by  that  time  far  beyond  our  reach. 
We  were  much  puzzled  in  our  minds  for  the  mean- 
ing of  this  precipitate  retreat  of  colonel  Doyle  ; how- 
ever, after  one  day  of  welcome  rest  and  high  cheer, 
we  faced  about,  fully  determined,  notwithstanding  our 
inferiority  of  force,  once  more  to  try  our  fortune  with 
colonel  Watson.  'But  in  reaching  the  ground  where 
we  had  left  him  encamped,  we  got  advice  that  he  too, 
with  all  his  troops,  were  gone  off,  at  a tangent,  as 
hard  as  he  could  driv^e.  While  we  were  wondering 
what  could  have  possessed  the  British  to  scamper 
thus  in  every  direction,  captain  Conyers,  of  Lee’s  le- 
gion, hove  in  sight,  with  the  welcome  news  that  the 
brave  colonel  Lee  was  at  hand,  coming  up  full  tilt  to 
join  us;  and  also  that  general  Green,  with  a choice 
detachment  from  the  great  Washington,  was  bending 
towards  Camden,  to  recover  the  laurels  which  the  in- 
cautious Gates  had  lost.  These  glorious  tidings  at 
once  explained  the  cause  of  the  enemy’s  flight,  and 
inspired  us  with  a joy  which  the  reader  can  better 
conceive  than  I express. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Marion’’ s method  of  managing  the  militia — sends  the 
author  on  another  expedition  against  the  tories — 
anecdote  of  Mr.  F.  Kinloch— curious  dream  of  black 
Jonathan , and  fortunate  escape  of  Mr.  Kinloch — the 
author’’ s party  surprised  by  the  British,  but  come  off 
xvith  fifing  colours. 

THE  world,  perhaps,  never  contained  a partisan 
officer  who  better  understood  the  management  of 
militia  than  did  general  Marion.  He  was  never  for 
dragooning  a man  into  the  service.  “ God  loves  a 
cheerful  giver , and  so  do  If  said  he,  ua  ’willing  sol- 
dier. To  have  him  such  you  must  convince  him  that 
it  is  his  interest,  for  interest  is  every  man’s  pole  star 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION.  id- 

Every  man  wishes  to  be  happy,  and  thereto  wishes 
a happy  wife  and  children,  a happy  country  and 
friends.  Convince  him  that  all  these  invaluable 
blessings  cannot  be  had  without  sxveet  liberty , and 
you  shall  have  a soldier  as  brave  as  Washington.— 
For  no  man,  worthy  of  the  name,  could  ever  yet  bear 
to  see  his  wife,  children  and  friends,  enslaved  and. 
miserable.”  Such  was  Marion’s  method  of  making 
soldiers.  And  what  with  this,  and  the  cruelty  of  the 
British  and  tories,  he  had  with  him,  perhaps,  some  of 
as  brave  and  desperate  men  as  ever  fought, 

u Never  ride  a free  horse  to  death,”  he  used  to  say 
to  his  officers  ; “ push,  while  he  is  fresh,  but  soon  as 
he  begins  to  lag,  then  lie  by  and  feed  high  is  your  play.” 
For  this  purpose  he  always  kept  a snug  hiding- 
place  in  reserve  for  ns  ; which  was  Snow’s  Island,  a 
most  romantic  spot,  and  admirably  fitted  to  our  use. 
Nature  had  guarded  it,  nearly  all  around,  with  deep 
waters  and  inaccessible  marshes;  and  the  neighbour- 
ing gentlemen  were  all  rich,  and  hearty  whigs,  who 
acted  by  us  the  double  part  of  generous  stewards  and 
faithful  spies,  so  that,  while  there,  we  lived  at  once 
in  safety  and  plenty. 

We  had  reposed  ourselves  but  two  days  in  the 
pleasant  wilds  of  Snow’s  Island,  before  Marion,  learn- 
ing that  a part  of  the  enemy  were  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, desired  me  to  take  captains  Clarke  and  Irvin, 
with  fifty  men,  and  try  if  I could  not  bring  him  a 
good  account  of  them. 

We  encamped  the  first  night  on  the  plantation  of 
Mr.  John  Withers,  where  hearing  that  Mr.  F.  Kin- 
loch,  our  member  of  Congress,  was  at  a neighbouring 
house,  I sent  him  the  following  note. 

Honourable  &>, 

If  in  these  dangerous  times  you  can  think  yourself 
safe  among  a handful  of  militia-men,  I shall  be  very 
glad  to  see  you  at  our  camp..  As  to  supper,  thank 
God  we  can  give  you  a trencher  of  fat  pork  and  po- 


190 


THE  LIFE  OF 


tatoes,  but  for  bed  and  furniture,  we  can  promise  you 
nothing  better  than  earth  and  skij . I shall  place  a 
sentinel  on  the  road  to  conduct  you  to, 

Honourable  Sir,  your  friend, 

Peter  Horry. 

Mr.  Kinloch,  who  was  one  of  the  cleverest  men  in 
the  world,  instantly  set  out  to  come  to  us,  but  unluck- 
ily missed  our  sentinel,  and  went  several  miles  below 
us  to  Mr.  Alexander  Rose’s  plantation,  managed  by 
a mulatto  driver  named  Jonathan.  The  day  being 
nearly  spent,  Jonathan  very  politely  urged  Mr.  Kin- 
loch to  alight  and  spend  the  night  there,  promising  him 
a warm  supper  and  a good  bedm.  Mr.  Kinloch  accept- 
ed Jonathan’s  offer  very  cheerfully,  and  after  taking 
part  of  a nice  fowl  and  a cup  of  coffee,  went  to  bed. 
He  had  not  slept  long  before  Jonathan  waked  him  up, 
and,  with  great  terror  in  his  looks,  told  him,  “ he  was 
mighty  ’fraid  there  was  harm  a brewing.” 

“ Aye,  Jonathan ! why  so,  my  good  lad  ?” 

“ Oh,  sir,”  replied  Jonathan,  “ such  a dream  as  I 
have  had,  sir!  a marvellous  bad  dream  about  the 
enemy’s  coming  upon  you  to-night,  sir  !” 

“ Poh  !”  quoth  Mr.  Kinloch,  turning  himself  over 
for  another  nap  : I have  dreamed  nothing  about  it, 
Jonathan.  And  I’m  sure  such  a dream  ought  to  have 
come  to  me,  and  not  to  you  ; so  we’ll  even  go  to  sleep 
again,  and  trust  to  heaven.” 

Accordingly  he  fell  asleep  a second  time  ; but  had 
not  long  enjoyed  that  sweetest  of  opiates,  before 
Jonathan  comes  again,  and  awakes  him  with  the  old 
story  of  his  dr  earn. 

w Well,  Jonathan,”  said  Mr.  Kinloch,  very  good- 
naturedly,  u if  you  are  determined  to  turn  me  out  of 
doors,  I suppose  I must  go.  But  where  can  I get  to, 
this  time  of  night?” 

“ Why,”  sir,  quoth  Jonathan,  “ I’ll  get  your  horse 
•md  go  with  you  to  the  main  road,  sir,  and  from  there. 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


191 


you  can’t  miss  your  way  back  to  the  house  you  came 
from  this  afternoon.” 

On  Jonathan’s  return  from  the  short  distance  he 
had  conducted  Mr.  Kinloch,  he  found  the  yard  filled 
with  the  British  light  horse  ! 

These  dreams  are  droll  things ; but  they  some- 
times come  so  well  attested,  that  there  is  no  doubting 
them.  He  who  made  our  frame,  can  certainly  speak 
to  us  as  well  asleep  as  awake  ; and  the  wise  will  feel 
the  importance  of  making  a friend  of  Him,  who  can 
cause  an  airy  dream  to  defend  us  as  effectually  as  a 
legion  of  angels. 

The  next  night,  just  as  we  were  about  to  encamp, 
we  lighted  on  a negro  fellow,  belonging  to  Mr.  Joseph 
Alston,  whom  I quickly  had  by  the  heels,  lest  he 
should  give  intelligence  to  the  enemy.  But,  as  the 
devil  would  have  it,  just  before  day,  the  sergeant  of 
the  guard,  overcome  by  the  negro’s  importunities, 
loosened  him  and  let  him  go.  And,  mark  now,  young 
officers,  what  comes  from  disobeying  orders.  This 
villain  of  a blackamoor  had  not  gone  above  three 
miles  before  he  fell  in  with  the  British,  to  whom, 
Judas-like,  he  betrayed  us  off  hand!  and  they  as 
quickly  took  horse,  and  pushed  on  to  surprise  us. 

By  sunrise  I had  all  my  men  mounted;  captain 
Clarke  leading  the  advance,  myself  and  captain  Irvin 
bringing  up  the  rest  of  the  corps. 

The  British  first  discovered  captain  Claike,  which 
they  did  in  the  way  of  a glimpse,  through  an  opening 
in  the  woods  ; then  sounding  their  bugles,  they  rush- 
ed on  to  the  charge.  Unfortunately,  Clarke  had  not 
yet  seen  the  enemy,  and  mistaking  their  bugles  for 
the  huntsmen’s  horns,  ordered  a halt  to  see  the  deer 
go  by.  But  instead  of  a herd  of  flying  deer,  behold  ! 
a column  of  British  cavalry  all  at  once  bursting  into 
the  road,  and  shouting  and  rushing  on  with  drawn 
swords  to  the  charge . In  a moment,  as  if  themselves 
metamorphosed  into  deer,  Clarke  and  his  advance 


192 


THE  LIFE  OF 


wheeled  about,  and  giving  their  horses  w the  tim- 
ber,”^ flew  back  upon  our  main  body,  roaring  out  as 
they  came  in  sight — “ The  British  ! the  British  !” 

Quick  as  thought  my  men  caught  the  panic,  and 
facing  about,  took  to  their  heels,  and  went  off  as  if  the 
d — 1 had  been  behind  them.  I bawled  after  them  as 
loud  as  I could  roar,  w Halt ! Halt  /”  but  I might  as 
well  have  bawled  to  the  whirlwinds,  for  it  appeared 
to  me  the  louder  I bawled,  the  swifter  the  rascals 
flew.  Whereupon  I clapped  spurs  to  my  young 
Janus,  and  went  off  after  them  at  full  stretch,  hoping 
to  gain  their  front  and  so  bring  them  to.  Being 
mounted  on  a young  full-blooded  charger,  fresh  and 
strong  from  the  stable,  I bid  fair  to  gain  my  point  too-, 
for  I was  coming  up  with  them  hand  over  hand. — 
But,  in  that  very  juncture  of  time,  as  the  Lord  was 
pleased  to  order  it,  my  girth  gave  way,  my  saddle 
turned,  and  my  charger  fetching  a ground  start,  threw 
me,  saddle,  holsters,  and  all,  full  ten  feet  over  his 
head,  and  then  ran  off.  I received  no  harm,  God  be 
praised  for  it,  but  recovering  my  legs  in  an  instant, 
bawled  out  again  to  my  men  to  halt  and  form. 

Happily  for  me,  at  the  very  moment  of  my  dis- 
aster, the  enemy,  suspecting  our  flight  to  be  only  a 
finesse,  had  halted,  while  only  sixteen  dragoons  un- 
der colonel  Camp,  continued  the  chase. 

Scorning  to  fly  from  such  a handful,  some  of  my 
more  resolute  fellows,  thirteen  in  number,  faced 
about,  and  very  deliberately  taking  their  aim  at  the 
enemy  as  they  came  up,  gave  them  a spanker , which 
killed  upwards  of  half  their  number.  The  rest  took 
to  flight,  leaving  their  colonel,  whose  horse  was  slain, 
to  shift  for  himself,  which  he  quickly  did  by  running 
into  the  woods. 

* This  is  a Carolina  phrase  for  slashing.  If  a husband  should  so 
far  forget  himself  as  to  beat  his  wife ! which,  thank  God,  is  very 
rare,  his  neighbours,  with  great  scorn,  say  of  him  as  he  pokes  his 
hated  face  along,  Aye,  that’s  the  jockey  that  gives  his  wife  the 
timber. 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


193 


The  British  were  so  near  us  when  they  received 
the  fire  of  my  men,  that  one  of  them,  a stout  fellow, 
as  he  wheeled  to  go  off,  came  so  close  to  me,  where 
I stood  on  the  ground,  that  he  was  lifting  his  broad 
sword  for  a back-handed  stroke,  which  would  proba* 
bly  have  saved  me  the  trouble  of  writing  this  history, 
had  I not,  with  one  of  my  pistols,  which  I took  from 
the  saddle  when  my  horse  left  me,  anticipated  his 
kindness,  by  driving  a bullet  through  his  shoulder, 
which  brought  him  to  the  ground.  Then  mounting 
his  horse,  while  my  men  caught  the  horses  of  those 
that  were  killed,  we  galloped  off,  very  well  satisfied 
that  the  affair  had  turned  out  no  worse. 

On  returning  to  Marion,  I could  not  help  com- 
plaining to  him  of  my  men,  whose  behaviour,  I said, 
in  this  last  affair,  had  been  so  very  dastardly,  that  I 
was  much  afraid,  I should  never  again  put  confidence 
in  them,  nor  gain  any  credit  by  commanding  them. 
“ Pshaw  !”  said  he,  with  a smile,  “ it  is  because  you 
do  not  understand  the  management  of  them : you 
command  militia;  it  will  not  do  to  expect  too  much 
from  that  sort  of  soldiers.  If,  on  turning  out  against 
the  enemy,  you  find  your  men  in  high  spirits,  with 
burning  eyes  all  kindling  around  you,  that’s  your  time; 
then  m close  columns,  with  sounding  bugles  and 
shining  swords,  dash  on,  and  I’ll  warrant  your  men 
will  follow  you,  eager  as  the  lion’s  whelps  bounding 
with  their  sire  to  the  chase  of  the  buffaloes.  But  on 
the  other  hand,  if  by  any  unlooked-for  providence 
they  get  dismayed,  and  begin  to  run,  you  are  not  to 
fly  in  a passion  with  them,  and  show  yourself  as  mad 
as  they  are  cowardly.  No  ! you  must  learn  to  run 
too  : and  as  fast  as  they ; nay  faster , that  you  may 
get  into  the  front,  and  encourage  them  to  rally. 

u And  as  to  the  credit  that  you  are  to  get  by  com- 
manding them,  I find,  my  dear  fellow,  that  you  are 
entirely  in  the  wrong  there  also.  Our  country  can- 
not expect  us  to  cope  with  British  regulars.  War  k 
an  art,  the  deepest  of  all  wts,  because  the  greatest  of 
R 


194 


THE  LIFE  OF 


all  earthly  consequences  depend  on  it.  And  none  can 
expect  to  be  masters  of  that  terrible  art,  but  such  as 
serve  a long  apprenticeship  to  it.  But  as  we  have 
served  no  apprenticeship,  we  can  know  but  little 
about  it  in  comparison  with  our  enemies,  who  in  dis- 
cipline and  experience  have  greatly  the  advantage  of 
us.  But,  thank  God,  we  have  our  advantages  too.— 
We  are  far  better  riders,  better  woodsmen,  and  bet- 
ter marksmen  than  they.  These  are  noble  advan- 
tages. Let  us  but  improve  them  by  redoubled  acti- 
vity and  vigilance,  and  kindness  to  our  men,  and 
especially  by  often  conversing  with  them  on  the 
grounds  of  the  war,  the  merits  of  our  cause,  and  the 
vast  consequences  depending.  Let  us,  I say,  in  this 
way,  make  them  soldiers  in  principle,  and  fond  of 
their  officers,  and  all  will  be  well  yet.  By  cutting  off 
the  enemy’s  foraging  parties,  drawing  them  into  am- 
buscades and  falling  upon  them  by  surprise,  we  shall, 
I hope,  so  harass  and  consume  them,  as  to  make  them 
glad  to  get  out  of  our  country.  And  then,  the  per- 
formance of  such  a noble  act  will  bring  us  credit,  and 
credit  enough  too,  in  the  eyes  of  good  men  ; while  as 
to  ourselves,  the  remembrance  of  having  done  so 
much  to  vindicate  the  rights  of  man,  and  make  pos- 
terity the  happier  for  us,  will  afford  us  a pleasure  that 
may  outlive  this  momentary  being.” 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


195 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Colonel  Harry  Lee  joins  general  Marion — Georgetown 
surprised — colonel  Campbell  made  prisoner - — major 
Irvin  killed — adjutant  Crookshanks  miraculously 
saved  by  his  sweetheart — -force  of  female  affection 
— American  generosity  contrasted  xvith  British  bar- 
barism— interesting  anecdotes  of  Mr . Cusac , young 
Gales  and  Dinkins , colonel  Lee\s  little  bugler , John 
Wiley , Peter  Yamal,  young  M’>  Coy,  major  Brown, 
colonel  Haynes,  and  lord  Rawdon . 

THE  next  day,  colonel  Lee  with  his  legion  came 
up,  to  the  inexpressible  joy  of  us  all;  partly  on  ac- 
count of  his  cavalry,  which  to  be  sure,  was  the  hand- 
somest we  had  ever  seen  ; but  much  more  on  account 
of  himself,  of  whom  we  had  heard  that,  in  deep  art 
and  undaunted  courage,  he  was  a second  Marion. — 
This,  our  high  opinion  of  him,  was  greatly  exalted  by 
his  own  gallant  conduct,  for  he  had  been  with  us  but 
a few  days  before  he  proposed  the  surprise  of  George- 
town, which  was  very  cordially  concurred  with  by 
general  Marion. 

- The  infantry  and  cavalry  employed  on  the  occa- 
sion, were  to  approach  the  town  at  different  points, 
after  midnight,  and  at  a signal  from  the  latter,  to 
commence  the  attack.  Unfortunately,  the  cavalry 
did  not  get  up  in  time,  owing  to  some  fault  of  their 
guide.  The  infantry  arrived  at  the  appointed  mo- 
ment, and  dreading  the  dangers  of  delay,  charged  at 
once  into  the  town,  which  they  found  utterly  unpre- 
pared for  an  attack.  Colonel  Campbell,  the  com- 
mander, was  made  prisoner  in  his  beV ; adjutant 
Crookshanks,  major  Irvin,  and  other  officers,  were 
sound  asleep  at  a tavern  belonging  to  a genteel  fami- 
ly, with  whom  they  had  spent  the  evening  with  great 
hilarity.  A detachment  of  our  men  approached  the 
house  and  surrounded  it.  Soon  as  the  alarm  was 
given,  the  officers  leaped  out  of  bed,  and  not  waiting 
to  dress,  flew  into  the  piazza,  flourishing  their  pistols 


1% 


THE  LIFE  OF 


*3 


and  shouting  to  the  charge.  Major  Irvin,  with  more 
courage  than  discretion,  fired  a pistol,  and  would  have 
tried  another,  but  just  as  he  had  cocked  it,  he  was 
stopped  short  by  the  stroke  of  a bayonet,  which  end- 
ed him  and  his  courage  together.  Adjutant  Crook- 
shanks,  acting  in  the  same  heroic  style,  would  have 
shared  the  same  fate,  had  it  not  been  for  an  angel  of 
a young  woman,  daughter  of  the  gentleman  of  the 
house.  This  charming  girl  was  engaged  to  be  mar- 
ried to  Crookshanks.  Waked  by  the  firing  and  hor- 
rid din  of  battle  in  the  piazza,  she  was  at  first  almost 
’reft  of  her  senses  by  the  fright.  But  the  moment  she 
heard  her  lover’s  voice,  all  her  terrors  vanished,  and 
instead  of  hiding  herself  under  the  bedclothes,  she 
rushed  into  the  piazza  amidst  the  mortal  fray,  with 
no  armour  but  her  love,  no  covering  but  her  flowing 
tresses.  Happily  for  her  lover,  she  got  to  him  just 
in  time  to  throw  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  scream 
out,  “ Oh  save!  save  major  Crookshanks !”  Thus, 
with  her  own  sweet  body  shielding  him  against  the 
uplifted  swords  of  her  enraged  countrymen ! 

Crookshanks  yielded  himself  our  prisoner ; but  we 
paroled  him  on  the  spot,  and  left  him  to  those  deli- 
cious sentiments  which  he  must  have  felt  in  the  arms 
of  an  elegant  young  woman,  who  had  saved  his  life 
by  an  effort  of  love  sufficient  to  endear  her  to  him 
all  eternity. 

It  was  told  us  afterwards  of  this  charming  girl, 
that  as  soon  as  we  were  gone,  and,  of  course,  the 
danger  past  and  the  tumult  of  her  bosom  subsided, 
she  fell  into  a swoon,  from  which  it  was  with  diffi- 
culty that  she  was  recovered.  Her  extreme  fright,  on 
being  waked  by  the  firing  and  horrid  uproar  of  battle 
in  the  house,  and  her  strong  sympathy  in  her  lover’s 
danger,  together  with  the  alarm  occasioned  by  find- 
ing herself  in  his  arms,  were  too  much  for  her  deli- 
cate frame. 

There  is  a beauty  in  generous  actions  which  charms 
the  souls  of  men  ! and  a sweetness*  which  like  that 


GEN.  FRANC'S  MARION. 


19  7 

immortal  love  whence  it  flows,  can  nevei  die.  The 
eyes  of  all,  even  the  poorest  soldiers  in  our  camp, 
sparkled  with  pleasure  whenever  they  talked,  as  they 
often  did,  of  this  charming  woman,  and  of  our  gene- 
rosity to  major  Crookshanks  ; and  to  this  day,  even 
after  a lapse  of  thirty  years,  I newer  think  of  it  but 
with  pleasure ; a pleasure  as  exquisite,  perhaps,  as 
what  I felt  at  the  first  moment  of  that  transaction. 

And  it  is  a matter  of  great  satisfaction  to  me,  to 
think  how  nobly  different  in  this  respect  was  our  con- 
duct from  that  of  the  British.  I speak  not  of  the 
British  nation , which  I hold  most  magnanimous ; but 
of  their  officers  in  Carolina,  such  as  Cornwallis,  Raw- 
don,  Tarleton,  Weymies,  Brown,  and  Balfour,  who 
instead  of  treating  their  prisoners  as  we  did  Crook- 
shanks,  have  often  been  known  to  butcher  them  in 
cold  blood;  though  their  fathers , mothers  and  children , 
on  bended  knees,  with  wringing  hands  and  streaming 
eyes,  have  been  imploring  pity  for  them. 

There  was  Mr.  Adam  Cusac,  of  Williamsburg  dis 
trict;  this  brave  man, 

“ This  buckskin  Hampden ; that,  with  dauntless  breast, 

* The  base  invaders  ot  his  rights  withstood,’* 

was  surprised  in  his  own  house  by  major  Weymies, 
who  tore  him  away  from  his  shrieking  wife  and  chil- 
dren, marched  him  up  to  Cheraw  court-house,  and 
after  exposing  him  to  the  insults  of  a sham  trial,  had 
him  condemned  and  hung  ! The  only  charge  ever 
exhibited  against  him  was,  that  he  had  shot  across 
Black  river  at  one  of  Weymies’  tory  captains. 

There  was  that  gallant  lad  of  liberty,  Kit  Gales,, 
with  his  brave  companion,  Sam  Dinkins : these  two 
heroic  youths  were  dogged  to  the  house  of  a whig 
friend,  near  the  hills  of  Santee,  where  they  were  sur- 
prised in  their  beds  by  a party  of  tories,  who  hurried 
them  away  to  lord  Rawdon,  then  on  his  march  from 
Charleston  to  Camden.  Rawdon  quickly  had  them, 
according  to  his  favourite  phrase,  ‘‘knocked  into 
irons,”  and  marched  on  under  guard  with  his  troops. 
R 2 


198 


THE  LIFE  OF 


On  halting  for  breakfast,  young  Gales  was  tucked  up 
to  a tree,  and  choked  with  as  little  ceremony  as  if  he 
had  been  a mad  dog.  He  and  young  Dinkins  had, 
it  seems,  the  day  before,  with  their  horses  and  rifles, 
ventured  alone,  so  near  the  British  army,  as  to  fire 
several  shots  at  them ! For  such  heroic  daring  in  de- 
fence of  their  cuuucry,  in  place  of  receiving  applause 
from  lord  Rawdon,  Gales,  as  we  have  seen,  received 
his  bloody  death.  His  gallant  young  friend,  Dinkins, 
was  very  near  drawing  his  rations  of  a like  doleful 
dish,  for  lord  Rawdon  had  him  mounted  upon  the 
same  cart  with  the  halter  round  his  neck,  ready  for 
a launch  into  eternity  ; when  the  tories  suggested  to 
his  lordship  their  serious  apprehensions  that  a terrible 
vengeance  might  follow : this  saved  his  life. 

Every  body  has  heard  the  mournful  story  of  colo- 
nel Lee’s  little  bugler,  and  how  he  was  murdered  by 
colonel  Tarleton.  This  w poor  beardless  boy,”  as 
Lee,  in  his  pathetic  account  of  that  horrid  transaction, 
calls  him,  had  been  mounted  on  a very  fleet  horse ; 
but  to  gratify  a countryman  who  had  brought  some 
news  of  the  British,  and  was  afraid  of  falling  into 
their  hands,  Lee  ordered  the  boy  to  exchange  his 
horse,  a moment,  for  that  of  the  countryman,  which 
happened  to  be  a miserable  brute.  This  Lee  did  in 
his  simplicity,  not  even  dreaming  that  any  thing  in 
the  shape  of  civilized  man  could  think  of  harming 
such  a child.  Scarcely  had  Lee  left  him,  when  he 
was  overtaken  by  Tarleton’s  troopers,  who  dashed  up 
to  him  with  looks  of  death,  brandishing  their  swords 
over  his  head.  In  vain  his  tender  cheeks,  reminding 
them  of  their  own  youthful  brothers,  sought  to  touch 
their  pity  ; in  vain,  with  feeble  voice,  and  as  long  as 
he  was  able,  he  continued  to  cry  for  quarter.  They 

struck  their  cruel  swords  into  his  face  and  arms, 

which  they  gashed  with  so  many  mortal  wounds 

that  he  died  the  next  day. 

u Is  your  name  JVHey  ?”  said  one  of  Tarleton’s  cap- 
tains, whose  name  was  Tuck,  to  Mr.  John  Wiley, 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


199 


sheriff  of  Camden,  who  had  lately  whipped  and  crop- 
ped a noted  horse  thief,  named  Smart . w Is  your 
name  Wiley?”  said  captain  Tuck  to  the  youpg  man, 
at  whose  door  he  rode  up  and  asked  the  question. — 
“Yes,  sir,”  replied  Mr.  Wiley.  “ Well,  then,  sir, 
you  are  a d — n — d rascal ,”  rejoined  captain  Tuck, 
giving  him  at  the  same  time  a cruel  blow  over  the 
forehead  with  his  broadsword.  Young  Wiley,  though 
doomed  to  die,  being  not  yet  slain,  raised  his  naked 
arm  to  screen  the  blow.  This,  though  no  more  than 
a common  instinct  of  poor  human  nature  in  the  mo- 
ment of  terror,  served  but  to  redouble  the  fury  of 
captain  Tuck,  who  continued  his  blows  at  the  bleed- 
ing, staggering  youth,  until  death  kindly  placed  him 
beyond  the  reach  of  human  malice. 

All  this  Was  done  within  a few  hundred  paces  of 
lord  Cornwallis,  who  never  punished  captain  Tuck. 

But  poor  Peter  Yarnall’s  case  seems  still  more  de- 
plorable. This  hard  fated  man,  a simple,  inoffensive 
quaker,  lived  near  Camden.  Having  urgent  business 
with  a man,  who,  as  he  understood,  was  with  general 
Sumpter,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Catawba,  he 
went  over  to  him.  The  man  happened,  at  that  mo- 
ment, to  be  keeping  guard  over  some  tory  prisoners. 
A paper  which  Yarnall  wanted  to  see  was,  it  seems, 
in  a jacket  pocket  in  the  man’s  tent  hard  by.  “ Hold 
my  piece  a moment,  sir,”  said  he  to  Yarnall,  “and 
I’ll  bring  the  paper/  Yarnall,  though  averse,  as  a 
quaker,  from  all  killing  of  enemies  with  a gun,  yet 
saw  no  objection  tG  holding  one  a moment.  The 
next  day,  a day  for  ever  black  in  the  American  calen- 
dar, witnessed  the  surprisal  of  general  Sumpter  and 
the  release  of  the  tory  prisoners,  one  of  whom  imme- 
diately went  his  way  and  told  colonel  Tarleton  that 
he  had  seen  Peter  Yarnall,  the  day  before,  keeping 
guard  over  the  king's  friends , prisoners  to  the  rebels. 
The  poor  man’s  house  was  quickly  surrounded  by  the 
British  cavalry.  Vain  were  all  his  own  explanations, 
nis  wife’s  entreaties,  or  his  children’s  cries.  He  was 


200 


THE  LIFE  OF 


draggtd  to  Camden,  and  thrust  into  prison.  Ever* 
morning,  his  wife  and  daughter,  a girl  of  about  fif- 
teen, rode  into  town  in  an  old  chair,  to  see  him,  and 
to  bring  him  milk  and  fruits,  which  must  have  been 
highly  acceptable  t^  one  crammed,  in  the  dogdays, 
into  a small  prison,  with  one  hundred  and  sixty-three 
half-stifled  wretches.  On  the  fourth  day,  an  amia- 
ble young  lady,  Miss  Charlton,  living  near  the  prison, 
had  heard  of  poor  Yarnall’s  fate  that  morning.  Soon 
therefore  as  she  saw  Mrs.  Yarnall  and  her  daughter 
coming  along  as  usual,  with  their  little  present  to 
their  husband  and  father,  she  burster!  into  tears. 
Mrs.  Yarnall  alighted  at  the  door  of  the  jail,  ancTbeg- 
ged  to  see  her  husband.  “ Follow  me,”  said  one  of 
the  guard,  w and  I’ll  show  you  your  husband.”  As 
she  turned  the  corner,  “ There  lie  is,  madam,”  said 
the  soldier,  pointing  to  her  husband  as  he  hung  dead 
on  a beam  from  the  window.  The  dt.  ghter  sunk  to 
the  ground  ; but  her  mother,  as  if  petrified  at  the 
sight,  stood  silent  and  motionless,  gazing  on  her 
dead  husband  with  that  wild  keen  eye  of  unutterable 
wo,  which  pierces  all  hearts.  Presently,  as  if  braced 
up  with  despair,  she  seemed  quite  recovered,  and 
°almly  begged  one  of  the  soldiers  to  assist  her  to 
take  down  the  corpse  and  lay  it  in  the  bottom  of  the 
chair.  Then  taking  her  seat,  with  her  daughter  sob- 
bing by  her  side,  and  her  husband  dead  at  her  feet, 
she  drove  home  apparently  quite  unmoved  ; and  dur- 
ing the  whole  time  she  was  preparing  his  coflin  and 
performing  the  funeral  duties,  she  preserved  the 
saras  firm  unaltered  looks.  But  soon  as  the  grave 
had  shut  its  mouth  on  her  husband,  and  divorced 
him  for  ever  from  her  sight,  the  remembrance  of  the 
past  rushed  upon  her  thoughts  with  a weight  too 
heavy  for  her  feeble  nature  to  bear.  Then  clasping 
her  hands  in  agony,  she  shrieked  out,  “ Poor  me  ! 
poor  me ! I have  no  husband,  no  friend  now  !”  and 
immediately  ran  raving  mad,  and  died  in  that  state. 

There  was  young  M‘Coy:  the  eye  of  humanity 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


201 


must  weep  often,  as  she  turns  the  page  that  tells  how 
this  amiable  youth  was  murdered.  His  father  was 
one  of  the  most  active  of  our  militia  captains.  As 
none  better  understood  American  rights,  so  none 
more  deeply  resented  British  aggressions,  than  did 
captain  McCoy.  His  just  views  and  strong  feel- 
itigs,  were  carefully  instilled  into  his  boy,  who, 
though  but  fifteen,  shouldered  his  musket,  and,  in 
spite  of  his  mother’s  tears,  followed  his  father  to  war. 
Many  a gallant  Englishman  received  his  death  at  their 
hands.  For,  being  well  acquainted  with  the  river, 
and  bravely  supported  by  their  friends,  they  often 
fired  upon  the  enemy’s  boats,  killing  their  crews  and 
intercepting  their  provisions.  This  so  enraged  co- 
lonel Brown,  the  British  commander  at  Augusta,  that 
he  made  several  attempts  to  destroy  captain  M4Coy. 
Once,  in  particular,  he  despatched  a captain  and  fifty 
men  to  surprise  him.  But  M‘Coy  kept  so  good  a 
look  out,  that  he  surprised  and  killed  the  captain  and 
twenty  of  his  men.  The  rest,  by  giving  good  leg 
bail , made  their  escape.  Young  M4Coy  fought  by 
the  side  of  his  father  in  this  and  many  other  rencon- 
tres, in  one  of  which  he  had  the  great  good  fortune 
to  save  his  father’s  life. 

At  the  head  of  some  gallant  friends,  they  fell  in 
with  a strong  party  of  tories,  near  Brier  creek,  com- 
manded by  a British  officer.  As  usual,  an  obstinate 
and  bloody  contest  ensued.  The  combatants  quickly 
coming  to  close  quarters,  McC'oy  grappled  with  the 
officer ; but  not  possessing  strength  equal  to  his 
courage,  he  was  overpowered  and  thrown  on  the 
ground.  The  youth,  who  had  just  fired  his  piece 
into  the  bosom  of  a tory,  seeing  his  father’s  danger* 
flew  to  his  aid,  and  with  the  butt  of  his  gun  knocked 
out  the  brains  of  the  officer,  at  the  very  instant  he 
was  lifting  his  dirk  for  the  destruction  of  his  father. 

In  a skirmish,  in  which  his  party  were  victorious* 
captain  M‘Coy  was  mortally  wounded,  and  died  ex- 
horting his  son  still  to  fight  undauntedly  for  the  liber* 


202 


THE  LIFE  OF 


ties  of  his  country.  After  the  death  of  his  father, 
young  McCoy  joined  the  brave  captain  Clarke.  In 
an  expedition  against  colonel  Brown,  Clarke  was  de- 
feated, and  young  JVFCoy  made  prisoner.  Hearing 
of  his  misfortune,  his  mother  hastened  to  Augusta, 
but  arrived  only  in  time  to  meet  him  with  colonel 
Brown  and  a guard,  carrying  him  out  to  the  gallows. 
With  gashing  tears,  she  fell  upon  his  neck,  and  bit- 
terly mourned  her  lot,  as  wretched  above  all  women, 
in  thus  losing  her  husband  and  only  son. 

The  behaviour  of  young  MfcCoy,  it  is  said,  was  he- 
roic beyond  his  years.  Instead  of  melting  with  his 
disconsolate  mother,  he  exhorted  her  like  one  who 
had  acted  on  principle,  and  now  felt  its  divine  conso- 
lations stronger  than  death. 

He  entreated  his  mother  not  to  weep  for  him,  nor 
for  his  father.  “ In  the  course  of  nature,  mother,” 
said  he,  “ we  were  to  part.  Our  parting  indeed,  is 
early;  but  it  is  glorious.  My  father  was  like  a lion 
in  battle  for  his  country.  As  a young  lion,  I fought 
by  his  side.  And  often,  when  the  battle  was  over, 
did  he  embrace  and  call  me  his  boy ! his  own  brave 
boy ! and  said  I was  worthy  of  you  both.  He  has 
just  gone  before,  and  I now  follow  him,  leaving  you 
the  joy  to  remember,  that  your  son  and  husband  have 
attained  the  highest  honour  on  earth  ; the  honour  of 
fighting  and  dying  for  the  rights  of  man.” 

Anxious  to  save  the  life  of  so  dear  a son,  poor  Mrs. 
M‘Coy  fell  on  her  knees  to  colonel  Brown,  and  with 
all  the  widowed  mother  agonizing  in  her  looks,  plead 
for  his  life.  But  in  vain.  With  the  dark  features 
of  a soul  horribly  triumphant  over  the  cries  of  mercy, 
he  repulsed  her  suit,  and  ordered  the  executioner  to 
do  his  office  ! He  hung  up  the  young  man  before  the 
eyes  of  his  mother!  and  then,  with  savage  joy,  suf- 
fered his  Indians,  in  her  presence,  to  strike  their 
tomahawks  into  his  forehead  ; that  forehead  which 
she  had  so  often  pressed  to  her  bosom,  and  kissed 
with  all  the  transports  of  a doating  mother. 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


203 


Who*  without  tears,  can  think  of  the  hard  fate  of 
poor  colonel  Haynes  and  his  family. 

Soon  as  the  will  of  heaven  had  thrown  Charleston 
into  the  hands  of  the  British,  lord  Cornwallis,  famed 
for  pompous  proclamations,  began  to  publish.  The 
tenour  of  his  gasconade  was,  that  Carolina  was  now, 
to  all  intents  and  purposes,  subjugated  ; that  the  ene- 
mies of  his  lord  the  king  were  all  at  his  mercy ; and 
that  though,  by  the  war  rubrick  for  conquered  rebels , 
he  had  a right  to  send  fire  and  sword  before  him,  with 
blood  and  tears  following  in  his  course  ; though  he 
had  a right  to  feed  the  birds  of  heaven  with  rebel 
carcasses,  and  to  fatten  his  soldiers  with  their  confis- 
cated goods,  yet  he  meant  not  to  use  that  dreadful 
right.  No  indeed  ! Far  from  him  was  all  such  odious 
thoughts.  On  the  contrary  he  wished  to  be  merciful ; 
and  as  proof  of  his  sincerity,  all  that  he  asked  of  the 
poor  deluded  people  of  his  majesty’s  colony  of  South 
Carolina  was,  that  they  should  no  longer  take  part  nor 
lot  in  the  contest,  but  continue  peaceably  at  their  homes. 
And  that,  in  reward  thereof,  they  should  be  most 
sacredly  protec  ted  in  property  and  person. 

This  proclamation  was  accompanied  with  an  in- 
strument of  neutrality,  as  an  w outward  and  visible 
sign  of  an  inward  and  spiritual  grace,”  in  my  lord 
Cornwallis  towards  the  Carolinians ; and  which  in- 
strument they  were  invited  to  sign,  that  they  might 
have  a covenant  right  to  the  aforesaid  promised  bless- 
ings of  protection , both  in  property  and  person. 

The  heart  of  colonel  Haynes  was  with  his  country- 
men, and  fervently  did  he  pray  that  his  hands  could 
be  with  them  too.  But,  these,  alas  ! were  bound  up 
by  his  wife  and  children,  whom,  k is  said,  he  loved 
passing  well.  Helpless  and  trembling  as  they  were, 
how  could  they  be  deserted  by  him  in  this  fearful 
season,  and  given  up  to  a brutal  soldiery  ? And  why 
should  he  insure  the  destruction  of  a large  estate, 
when  all  opposition  seemed  hopeless  ? In  short, 
with  thousands  of  others,  he  went  and  signed  an  in- 


204 


THE  LIFE  OF 


strument,  which  promised  security  to  his  family  and 
fortune.  But  alas  ! from  that  fatal  moment  he  never 
more  enjoyed  peace.  To  hate  the  ministerial  mea- 
sures as  he  did,  and  yet  thus  tamely  to  have  submit- 
ted to  them  ; to  love  his  country  as  heartily  as  he  did, 
and  to  know  that  she  was  now  fighting,  with  her  all 
at  stake,  and  yet  thus  to  have  deserted  her  ! 

These  keen  self-condemning  reflections  harrowed 
every  root  of  quiet  from  his  soul.  If  he  went  to  his 
couch,  it  was  only  to  groan,  sleepless  and  tossing,  all 
the  restless  night.  If  he  got  up,  it  was  but  to  sit,  or 
walk  to  and  fro  in  his  family,  with  dark  and  woful 
looks,  like  one  whom  trouble  had  overcome. 

In  the  midst  of  these  anguishing  reflections,  which 
appeared  to  be  wearing  him  fast  to  the  grave,  a res- 
pite was  afforded,  and  by  a hand  from  which  it  was 
least  expected.  Lord  Cornwallis,  having  by  his  first 
proclamation,  obtained  to  the  instrument  of  neutrality 
aforesaid,  the  signatures  of  many  thousands  of  the 
citizens  of  South  Carolina,  then  came  out  with  a se- 
cond proclamation,  in  which  he  nominates  the  paper 
above  not  an  instrument  of  neutrality,  but  a bond  of 
allegiance  to  the  king,  and  calls  upon  all  who  had 
signed  it,  to  take  up  arms  against  the  rebels  ! — threat- 
ening to  treat  as  deserters  those  who  refused ! 

This  fraud  of  my  lord  Cornwallis,  excited  in  all 
honest  men  the  deepest  indignation.  It  completely 
revived  colonel  Haynes.  To  his  unspeakable  joy,  he 
now  saw  opened  a door  of  honourable  return  to  duty 
and  happiness.  And  since,  contrary  to  the  most  so- 
lemn compact,  he  was  compelled  to  fight , he  very  na- 
turally determined  to  fight  the  British,  rather  than  his 
own  countrymen.  He  fled  to  his  countrymen,  who 
received  him  with  joy,  and  gave  him  a command  of 
horse.  He  was  surprised  and  carried  to  Charleston, 
where  lord  Rawdon,  then  commandant,  ordered  him, 
in  his  favourite  phrase,  to  be  knocked  into  irons . A 
mock  trial,  dignified  with  che  name  of  court  martial , 
was  held  over  him,  and  col  jnel  Haynes  was  sentenced 


ifpiw 

_ OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 


Page  205. 


Oh  my  father!  my  father!  I will  die  with  you. 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


205 


to  be  hung ! Every  body  in  Charleston,  Britons  as 
well  as  Americans,  all  heard  this  sentence  with  horror, 
except  colonel  Haynes  himself.  On  his  cheek  alone, 
all  agree,  it  produced  no  change.  It  appeared  that 
the  deed  which  he  had  done,  signing  that  accursed 
paper,  had  run  him  desperate.  Though  the  largei 
part,  even  of  his  enemies,  believing  that  it  was  done 
merely  from  sympathy  with  his  wife  and  children,  felt 
the  generous  disposition  to  forgive  him,  yet  he  could 
never  foi*£ive  himself.  It  had  inflicted  on  his  mind 
a wound  too  ghastly  to  be  healed.. 

To  their  own,  and  to  the  great  honour  of  human 
nature,  numbers  of  the  British  and  loyalists,  with 
governor  Bull  at  their  head,  preferred  a petition  to 
lord  Rawdon  in  his  behalf.  But  the  petition  was  not 
noticed.  The  ladies  then  came  forward  in  his  favour 
with  a petition,  couched  in  the  most  delicate  and 
moving  terms,  and  signed  by  all  the  principal  females 
of  Charleston,  tories  as  well  as  whigs.  But  all  to  no 
purpose.  It  was  then  suggested  by  the  friends  of 
humanity,  that  if  the  colonel’s  little  children,  for  they 
had  no  mother,  she,  poor  woman  ! crushed  under  the 
double  weight  of  grief  and  the  small-pox,  was  just 
sunk  at  rest  in  the  grave.  I was  suggested,  I say, 
that  if  the  colonel’s  little  children,  dressed  in  mourn- 
ing, were  to  fall  at  the  knees  of  lord  Rawdon,  he 
would  pity  their  motherless  condition,  and  give  to. 
their  prayers  their  only  surviving  parent.  They 
were  accordingly  dressed  in  black,  and  introduced 
into  his  presence  : they  fell  down  at  his  knees,  and, 
with  clasped  hands  and  tear-streaming  eyes,  lisped 
their  father’s  name,  and  begged  his  life  : but  ;n  vain. 

So  many  efforts  to  save  him,  both  by  friends  and 
generous  foes,  could  not  be  made,  unknown  to  colo- 
nel Haynes.  But  he  appeared  perfectly  indifferent 
about  the  result ; and  when  told  that  they  had  all 
failed,  he  replied  with  the  utmost  unconcern — u W ell, 
thank  God,  lord  Rawdon  cannot  hurt  me.  He  can- 
S 


*06 


THE  LIFE  OF 


not  be  more  anxious  to  take  my  life  than  I am  to  lay 
it  down.” 

With  his  son,  a youth  of  thirteen,  who  was  per- 
mitted to  stay  with  him  in  the  prison,  colonel  Haynes 
used  often  to  converse,  in  order  to  fortify  him  against 
die  sad  trial  that  was  at  hand.  And  indeed  it  was 
necessary,  for  seldom  has  a heavier  load  been  laid  on 
a tender-hearted  youth.  War,  like  a thick  cloud,  had 
darkened  up  the  gay  morning  of  his  days  ; the  grave 
had  just  closed  her  mouth  on  a mother  who  doated 
on  him ; and  he  now  beheld  his  only  parent,  a be- 
loved father,  in  the  power  of  his  enemies,  loaded  with 
irons,  and  condemned  to  die.  With  cheeks  wet  with 
tears,  he  sat  continually  by  his  father’s  side,  and  look- 
ed at  him  with  eyes  so  piercing  and  sad,  as  often 
wrung  tears  of  blood  from  his  heart. 

u Why,”  said  he,  44  my  son,  will  you  thus  break 
V'our  father’s  heart  with  unavailing  sorrow  ? Have  I 
not  often  told  you,  that  we  came  into  this  world  but 
to  prepare  for  a better  ? For  that  better  life,  my  dear 
boy,  your  father  is  prepared . Instead  then  of  weep- 
ing, rejoice  with  me,  my  son,  that  my  troubles  are  so 
near  an  end.  To-morrow,  I set  out  for  immortality. 
You  will  accompany  me  to  the  place  of  my  execution  ; 
and  when  I am  dead,  take  and  bury  me  by  the  side 
of  your  mother.” 

The  youth  here  fell  on  his  father’s  neck,  crying, 
44  Oh  my  father  ! my  father  ! I will  die  with  you  ! I 
will  die  with  you  !” 

Colonel  Haynes  would  have  returned  the  strong 
embrace  of  his  son  ; but,  alas  ! his  hands  were  loaded 
with  irons.  44  Live,”  said  he,  44  my  son,  live  to  honour 
God  by  a good  life ; live  to  serve  your  country  ; and 
6ve  to  take  care  of  your  brother  and  little  sisters  !” 

The  next  morning  colonel  Haynes  wras  conducted 
o the  place  of  execution.  His  son  accompanied  him. 
3oon  as  they  came  in  sight  of  the  gallows,  the  father 
strengthened  himself  and  said — 44  Now , my  son , show 
yourself  a man  l That  tree  is  the  boundary  of  my  lifey 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


20  7 

and  of  all  my  life's  sorrows.  Beyond  that,  the  widen 
cease  from  troubling  and  the  xveary  are  at  rest . Don't, 
lay  too  much  to  heart  our  separation  from  you  ; it  wih 
be  but  short . ’ Tivas  but  lately  your  dear  mother  died 

To-day  I die.  And  you,  my  son,  though  but  young 
must  shortly  follow  us." 

“ Yes,  my  father,”  replied  the  broken-hearted  youth, 
“ I shall  shortly  follow  you : for  indeed  I feel  that  I 
cannot  live  long.”  And  so  it  happened  unto  him. 
For  on  seeing  his  father  in  the  hands  of  the  execu- 
tioner, and  then  struggling  in  the  halter,  he  stood  like 
one  transfixed  and  motionless  with  horror.  Till  then 
he  had  wept  incessantly  ; but  soon  as  he  saw  that 
sight,  the  fountain  of  his  tears  was  staunched,  and 
he  never  wept  more.  It  was  thought  that  grief,  like 
a fever,  burnt  inwardly,  and  scorched  his  brain,  for 
he  became  indifferent  to  every  thing  around  him,  and 
often  wandered  as  one  disordered  in  his  mind.  At 
times,  he  took  lessons  from  a fencing  master,  and 
talked  of  going  to  England  to  fight  the  murderer  of 
his  father.  But  he  who  made  him  had  pity  on  him, 
and  sent  death  to  his  relief.  He  died  insane,  and  in 
his  last  moments  often  called  on  the  name  of  his  father, 
in  terms  that  brought  tears  from  the  hardest  hearts. 

I hope  my  reader  will  not  suppose,  from  these  odi- 
ous truths  which  I have  been  telling  him  about  the 
British  and  tories,  that  I look  on  them  as  worse  than 
other  men ; or  that  I would  have  him  bear  an  eternal 
hatred  against  them.  No,  God  forbid.  On  the  con- 
trary, I have  no  doubt  on  my  mind,  that  the  British 
and  tories  are  men  of  the  same  passions  with  our- 
selves. And  I also  as  firmly  believe,  that,  if  placed 
in  their  circumstances,  we  should  have  acted  just  as 
they  did.  Upon  honour  this  is  my  conviction  now; 
but  it  was  not  always  so  : for  I confess  there  was  a 
time,  when  I had  my  prejudices  against  them,  and 
prejudices  too  as  strong  as  those  of  any  other  man, 
let  him  be  who  he  would.  But  thank  God  those  pre- 
judices, so  dishonourable  to  the  head,  and  so  uneasy 


208 


THE  LIFE  OF 


to  the  heart,  are  done  away  from  me  now.  And  from 
this  most  happy  deliverance,  I am,  through  the  divine 
goodness,  principally  indebted  to  my  honoured  friend, 
general  Marion,  of  whose  noble  sentiments,  on  these 
subjects,  I beg  leave  to  give  the  reader  some  little 
specimen  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Short  and  srveet — or,  a curious  dialogue  between  gene- 
ral Marion  and  captain  Snipes , on  retaliation . 

“No  radiant  pearls  that  crested  fortune  wears. 

No  gem  that  sparkling  hangs  in  beauty’s  ears ; 

Not  the  bright  stars  that  night’s  blue  arch  adorn, 

Nor  opening  Suns  that  gild  the  vernal  morn, 

Shine  with  such  lustre  as  the  tear  that  flows 
Down  virtue’s  manly  cheeks,  for  others’  woes.” 

WHAT  gigantic  form  is  that  which  stalks  thus 
awfully  before  the  eyes  of  my  memory;  his  face, 
rough  and  dark  as  the  cloud  of  winter,  and  his  eye- 
balls burning  like  coals  of  fire  ? ’Tis  the  impetuous 
captain  Snipes.  He  is  just  returned  from  the  quarter 
house  near  Charleston,  where  he  and  captain  McCau- 
ley,  with  Macdonald  and  forty  men,  have  recently 
surprised  and  cut  to  pieces  a large  party  of  the  ene- 
my. He  looks  as  if^the  fury  of  the  battle  had  not  yet 
subsided  in  his  wrathful  countenance.  His  steps  are 
towards  Marion,  and  as  he  presents  a packet,  he  ex- 
claims in  an  angry  tone,  “ There,  sir,  is  a Charleston 
paper.  You’ll  see  there  how  those  villains  are  going 
on  yet.  Not  satisfied  with  all  the  murders  they  had 
committed  before,  they  have  gone  now  and  murder- 
ed colonel  Haynes.”  Here  he  gave  the  heads  of  that 
disgraceful  act,  seasoning  his  speech  every  now  and 
then,  as  he  went  along,  with  sundry  very  bitter  im- 
precations on  lord  Rawdon. 

u Ah  shame  ! shame  upon  him  !”  replied  the  gene- 
ral with  a sigh,  and  shaking  his  head  ; u shame  upon 
lord  Rawdon 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


209 


44  Shame  !”  answered  captain  Snipes,  his  eyes  flash- 
ing fire ; 44  shame ! I hope  something  heavier  thaa 
shame  will  light  upon  him  for  it  soon.  The  Ameri- 
can officers  have  sworn  never  again  to  give  quartei 
to  the  British  or  tories.” 

Marion . God  forbid  that  my  countrymen  should 
have  taken  such  an  oath  as  that ! 

Snipes . Why,  general  Marion,  would  you  have  the 
enemy  go  on  at  this  rate,  and  we  take  no  revenge  ? 

M.  Revenge  ? O yes,  to  be  sure,  sir ; revenge  is 
sweet,  and  by  all  means  let  us  have  it;  but  let  it  be 
of  the  right  kind. 

S.  Of  the  right  kind,  sir  ! what  do  you  call  revenge 
of  the  right  kind  ? 

M.  Why,  sir,  I am  for  taking  that  kind  of  revenge 
which  will  make  our  enemies  ashamed  of  their  con- 
duct, and  abandon  it  for  ever. 

S.  Ashamed  of  their  conduct!  Monsters  l they  are 
not  capable  of  shame. 

M.  Pshaw  ! don’t  talk  so,  captain  Snipes  ! our  ene- 
mies, sir,  are  men,  and  just  such  men  as  we  are  ; and 
as  capable  of  generous  actions,  if  we  will  but  show 
them  the  way. 

S , Well  then,  general  Marion,  how  do  you  account 
for  that  great  difference  between  us  and  them  in  point 
of  spirits  ? We  have  never  yet  killed  any  of  their 
men,  except  in  fair  fight,  that  I have  heard  of ; but 
they  have  often  murdered  ours.  Yes,  the  cowardly 
rascals ! they  have  often  done  it,  and  that  in  cold 
blood  too. 

M Granted.  And  I am  very  glad  that  when  we 
have  had  them  in  our  power,  we  have  always  treated 
them  so  much  more  generously.  But,  I suppose  the 
reason  of  such  barbarity  on  their  part,  is,  they  have 
had,  or  which  is  the  same  thing,  have  thought  they 
had  greater  provocations. 

S,  They  be  d — n — d,  they  and  their  provocations 
too ! Are  not  we  the  persons  who  have  been  invaded, 
S 2 


210 


THE  LIFE  OF 


and  plundered  and  murdered  by  them,  and  not  they  by 
us  ? How  then  can  they  have  greater  provocations  ? 

M.  Why,  sir,  sprung  originally  from  them,  and  al- 
ways looked  on  by  them  as  their  children,  our  turning 
now  and  fighting  against  them,  must  appear,  in  their 
sight,  a very  great  provocation  ; as  great  perhaps  as 
that  of  children  fighting  against  their  parents.  And 
again,  our  shaking  off  what  they  glory  in,  as  the  wisest , 
and  freest , and  happiest  government  on  earth,  must 
make  us  seem  to  them  as  no  better  than  the  vilest 
traitors  and  rebels ; which  cannot  otherwise  than  prove 
another  very  great  provocation.  And  again,  after 
having  been  first  settled  in  this  country  by  them , as 
they  will  have  it,  and  afterwards,  so  long  and  liberally 
assisted  with  their  best  blood  and  treasure,  in  hope 
that  some  day  or  other  we  should  be  of  service  to 
them  ; that  now,  at  the  very  time  when,  by  our  im- 
mense population,  we  were  just  arrived  to  the  so  long 
desired  point,  to  swell  their  wealth  and  spread  their 
commerce  and  arms  over  the  world,  we  should  sepa- 
rate from  them,  blast  all  their  fond  hopes,  and  throw 
them  back  to  the  former  level  ; this,  I say,  you  will 
certainly  allow,  must  be  a very  severe  provocation. 
Now,  sir,  putting  all  these  provocations  together,  and 
also  taking  poor  human  nature  into  the  account,  is  it 
to  be  wondered  at,  that  the  British  should  be  so  much 
more  angry,  and  consequently  more  violent  than  we  ? 

S.  Why,  certainly,  general  Marion,  you  have  al- 
ways a very  fine  knack  at  setting  off  your  arguments. 
But  still,  sir,  I can’t  see  things  in  that  light.  For  a 
man,  sir,  to  go  and  trump  up  a pack  of  claims  against 
me,  and  all  of  them  because  I can’t  credit  him  in  the 
abominable  extent  he  wishes,  to  fall  upon  me  and  kill 
and  murder  me,  as  the  British  and  tories  have  done 
with  us,  and  we  not  stop  them  by  revenge  ! why,  my 
God!  sir,  it  will  never  do.  For,  at  this  rate,  whom 
shall  we  have  living  in  all  this  country,  in  a little  time, 
but  the  British,  and  their  friends  the  tories  and  ne- 
groes ? 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


211 


31  My  brave  captain,  let  me  tell  you  again,  I am 
as  anxious  to  stop  them  as  you  can  possibly  wish  me 
to  be  ; but  I am  for  doing  it  in  what  I think  the  right 
way.  I mean  the  way  of  policy  and  humanity. 

S,  Policy,  sir ! can  their  be  policy  in  letting  our 
best  men  be  murdered  by  these  savages  ! I’m  sure 
general  Washington  did  not  think  so.  For,  though 
I am  no  man  of  learning  myself,  yet  I have  been  told 
by  those  that  are,  that,  on  it's  being  threatened  by 
general  Gage  to  hang  an  American  soldier,  he  instant- 
ly wrote  him  word,  that  if  he  dared  to  do  such  a thing, 
the  life  of  a British  soldier  should  pay  for  it.  And, 
it  is  well  known,  that  he  kept  the  British  army  and 
nation  too,  in  a fright  for  three  months  together,  with 
the  halter  constantly  around  the  neck  of  captain  As- 
gil,  expecting  every  day  to  be  hung  for  the  murder 
of  captain  Huddy. 

M,  True  ; general  Washington  did  act  so.  And  it 
was  policy  to  act  against  a foreign  enemy.  But  our 
standing  with  the  tories  is  quite  a different  case,  and 
requires  a very  different  course.  The  tories  are  our 
countrymen,  a part  of  our  own  population  and 
strength,  so  that  every  man  of  them  that  is  killed,  is 
a man  for  ever  lost  to  ourselves.  Now,  since  the 
British  have  put  them  up  to  murder  us,  if  we  go,  out 
of  revenge,  to  murder  them  again,  why,  in  the  course 
of  a little  time  our  population  will  be  so  cut  up,  as  to 
allow  the  British  ministry,  with  ease,  to  take  our 
country,  and  make  slaves  of  us  all;  which  is  just 
what  lord  North  desires. 

S.  Yes,  I dare  say  it  is.  But  I hope  he’ll  be  dis- 
appointed yet. 

M,  No  doubt  of  it,  sir;  if  we  shall  be  wise  and 
magnanimous  enough  to  follow  the  true  policy,  which 
is  no  other  than  humanity  to  these  deluded  people, 
the  tories . and  to  this  we  have  every  inducement 
that  generous  spirits  could  desire.  The  tories  and 
ourselves  are  brothers  ; many  of  us  went  to  the  same 
school  together;  and  a thousand  times -have  ate  and 


212 


THE  LIFE  OF 


drank  in  each  other’s  houses.  And  as  to  the  quarrel 
in  which  we  are  now  unfortunately  engaged,  though 
not  the  most,  still  we  are  much  in  fault.  We  made  no 
allowances  for  those  follies  of  theirs  which  led  to  it. 
They  thought — First , That  we  were  too  nearly  allied 
to  England  to  go  to  war  with  her:  this  was  a weak- 
ness, but  there  was  something  amiable  in  it. — Se- 
condly, They  thought  the  British  were  much  too  war- 
like and  powerful  to  be  resisted  by  us : this  was  an 
error,  but  it  was  learned  in  the  nursery. — Thirdly , 
They  wished  to  keep  in  with  the  British,  merely  that 
they  might  save  their  property:  this  was  altogether 
from  fear , and  therefore  claimed  some  commiseration. 
But  no  ! we  could  not  grant  one  grain  of  indulgence 
to  any  of  their  mistakes.  We  would  have  it,  they 
all  proceeded  from  the  vilest  of  motives.  We  called 
them  traitors , and  cowards , and  scoundrels  ; and  load- 
ed them  with  a thousand  indignities  besides.  Well, 
the  consequences  were,  as  might  have  been  expected 
from  human  weakness  and  passion.  Wrought  to  des- 
peration, and  caring  not  what  they  did,  they  have 
gone  and  joined  our  enemies,  and  many  valuable  lives 
have  been  lost  on  both  sides.  Surely  ’tis  high  time 
now  that  we  should  set  about  doing  something  to 
end  it. 

S.  Well!  let  them  set  about  ending  it  themselves. 
They  were  the  first  to  begin  it. 

M,  But  would  you  have  the  tories  to  lead  to  glory  ? 

S.  Glory!  I should  think  it  meanness  to  be  the 
first  to  make  overtures  to  such  rascals  / 

M.  Well,  but,  captain  Snipes,  when  brethren,  as  we 
are,  fall  out,  is  it  policy  to  go  on  to  exasperate  and  cut 
*&.ch  other’s  throats,  until  our  enemy  comes  and  takes 
away  a fine  country,  of  which,  by  such  madness,  wre 
had  rendered  ourselves  unworthy?  Would  it  not  be 
much  better  policy  to  trace  back  all  our  wrong  steps 
of  passion  and  revenge,  and  making  hearty  friends 
Again,  and  joining  our  forces  against  the  common  ene- 
my, drive  him  out  of  our  country;  and  then  bv  estab- 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


213 


lishing  a free  government,  and  encouraging  agricul- 
ture and  commerce,  and  learning,  and  religion,  make 
ourselves  a great  and  happy  people  again  ; would  not 
this,  I say,  be  the  true  policy  ? 

Why  yes,  I confess,  general  Marion,  it  would 
be  a noble  thing,  and  very  desirable,  if  it  could  be 
done.  But  I cannot  bear  to  think  of  being  the  first  to 
make  terms  with  the  tones,  after  they  have  been 
burning,  and  plundering,  and  murdering  our  best 
friends.  It  is  too  hard,  sir,  for  mortal  flesh  and  blood. 

M.  It  is  a great  trial,  I confess ; but  “ the  heavier 
the  cross  the  brighter  the  crown,”  you  know,  sir.  And 
as  to  the  difficulty  of  the  undertaking,  that’s  the  very 
thing  that  should  make  us  jump  at  it ; the  glory  of 
showing  ourselves  wiser  and  better  men  than  our 
enemy.  . And  besides,  let  us  recollect  that  the  glory 
of  this  exploit  all  now  lies  with  us : for  if  we  do  not 
pluck  up  courage  and  do  it,  it  will  never  be  done. — 
The  tories  are,  generally,  an  ignorant  people  ; and 
therefore  not  much  of  wise  or  good  is  to  be  expected 


r 

luul  qUitl 


rru~y  have  also,  In  many  ins  tances, 


acted  a very  savage  part  by  us : their  consciousness 
of  this  can  have  no  tendency  to  make  them  couft  re- 
conciliation with  us.  Since,  then,  but  little  is  to  be 
expected  from  them , it  seems  incumbent  on  us  to  do 
the  more.  We  have  better  information,  and  we  have 
also  a much  better  cause.  These  are  great  advantages 
which  God  has  given  us;  and  now  it  becomes  us  to 
improve  them,  to  his  glory  and  to  our  own  honour,  by 
showing  a conciliatory  and  magnanimous  spirit  to- 
wards our  enemies.  And  though  it  should  cost  us 
labour  to  win  such  a victory,  yet , I am  confident,  that 
when  won,  it  will  appear  to  us  the  most  glorious  that 
we  ever  achieved.  To  conquer  an  enemy  by  the 
sword,  is,  no  doubt,  honourable  ; but  still  it  is  nothing 
in  comparison  of  conquering  him  by  generosity.  As 
arguing  both  superior  virtue  and  courage,  it  com- 
mands higher  admiration  from  the  world,  and  is  re- 
flected on  by  ourselves  with  far  more  self-esteem  and 


214 


THE  LIFE  OF 


applause.  And  then,  sir,  only  consider  how  such 
conduct  will  gild  the  future  scenes  of  life.  This  un- 
fortunate quarrel  betwixt  us  and  our  countrymen,  the 
tories,  is  not  to  last  for  ever.  It  was  only  the  act  of 
a whjked  ministry,  attempting,  by  an  unconstitutional 
tax  to  enslave  an  affectionate  part  of  the  nation.  God 
car  never  suffer  such  an  attempt  to  prosper.  It  masl 
be  out  a momentary  quarrel  ; and  we  ought  to  ac- 
custom ourselves  to  think  of  it  as  such,  and  to  look 
beyond  it  to  the  happy  days  that  are  to  succeed.  And 
since  the  storm  of  war  is  soon  to  subside  into  the 
calm  of  peace,  let  us  do  nothing  now,  that  may  throw 
a cloud  over  the  coming  sunshine.  Let  us  not  even 
talk  of  exterminating  zvar  ! that  unnatural  crime  which 
would  harrow  up  our  souls  with  the  pangs  of  remorse, 
and  haunt  our  repose  with  the  dread  of  retaliation — 
which  would  draw  down  upon  our  cause  the  curse  of 
heaven,  and  make  our  very  name  the  odium  of  all 
generations.  But,  far  differently,  let  us  act  the  gener- 
ous part  of  those  who,  though  now  at  variance,  are 
yet  brothers,  and.  soon  to  be  good  friends  again.  And 
then,  when  peace  returns,  we  shall  be  in  proper  frame 
to  enjoy  it.  No  poor  woman  that  we  meet  will  seem 
to  upbraid  us  for  the  slaughter  of  her  husband;  no 
naked  child,  for  robbing  him  of  his  father;  no  field 
will  cry  against  us  for  a brother’s  blood.  On  the 
contrary,  whenever  the  battles  which  we  are  now  fight- 
ing, shall  recur  to  our  thoughts,  with  the  frightened 
enemy  grounding  their  arms  and  crying  for  quarter, 
we  shall  remember  how  we  heard  their  cries  and  stop- 
ped the  uplifted  sword.  Joy  will  spring  in  our  bo- 
soms, and  all  around  will  smile  with  approbation. — 
The  faces  of  the  aged  will  shine  upon  us,  because  we 
spared  their  sons  ; bright-eyed  females  will  bless  us 
for  their  surviving  husbands:  and  even  the  lips  of 
the  children  will  lisp  our  praises.  Thus  with  a heaven 
of  delighted  feeling  in  our  hearts,  and  the  smiles  both 
of  God  and  man  on  our  heads,  we  shall  pass  the  even- 
ing of  our  days  in  glorious  peace.  And  when  death 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


215 


shall  call  us  to  that  better  world,  we  shall  obey  with- 
out reluctance.  Conscious  of  neither  dread  nor  hate 
towards  any  of  the  blessed  people  that  dwell  there, 
we  shall  go  in  strong  hope  of  witnessing  the  bright 
realities  of  that  state,  where  all  is  immortality  and 
love.  Perhaps  we  shall  there  meet  many  of  those 
whom  it  has  been  our  sad  destiny  to  fight  with  here  ; 
not  in  their  present  imperfect  state,  but  in  their  state 
of  exaltation,  clad  in  robes  brighter  than  the  stars, 
and  their  faces  outshining  the  sun  in  his  noonday 
splendours.  Perhaps  at  sight  of  us,  these  glorious 
spirits  may  rush  with  new-flushed  beauties,  to  embrace 
us,  and  in  the  presence  of  crowding  angels,  recount 
our  kindness  to  them  in  the  days  of  their  mortality ; 
while  all  the  dazzling  throngs,  listening  delighted, 
shall  fix  on  us  their  eyes  of  love,  inspiring  those  joys, 
which  none  but  strong  immortals  could  sustain.  Are 
not  these,  O my  friends,  hopes  worth  contending  for  ? 
Is  revenge  to  be  cherished  that  would  rob  us  of  such 
honours  ? Can  generosity  be  dear  that  would  ensure 
to  us  so  great  rewards  ? Then  let  us  not  think  bene- 
volence was  enjoined  in  vain,  which  is  to  conduct  us 
to  such  immortal  felicities.” 

As  Marion  spoke  these  words,  his  countenance, 
which  in  general  was  melancholy,  caught  an  anima- 
tion beyond  the  reader’s  fancy  to  conceive.  The 
charms  of  goodness,  and  the  bright  rewards  which 
await  it,  were  painted  in  such  living  colours  on  his 
face,  that  not  even  the  stranger  could  have  beheld  it 
unmoved.  On  me,  who  almost  adored  Marion  for 
his  godlike  virtues,  its  effects  were  past  describing. 
My  bosom  heaved  with  emotions  unutterable,  while 
the  tear  of  delicious  admiration  swelled  in  my  eyes. 
As  to  captain  Snipes,  he  appeared  equally  affected. 
His  eyes  were  riveted  on  the  general,  and  towards 
die  close  of  the  speech  his  breath  seemed  suspended  ; 
his  colour  went  and  came;  and  his  face  reddened 
and  swelled ; as  under  the  powerful  eloquence  of  the 
pulpit. 


216 


THE  LIFE  OF 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Marion  and  Lee  attack  and  take  fort  Watson  and  fort 
Lee — interesting  anecdotes. 

FROM  Georgetown,  Marion  proceeded  with  colo- 
nel Lee  to  attack  the  British  post  on  Scott’s  lake, 
generally  called  fort  Watson.  The  situation  of  this 
fort  was  romantic  and  beautiful  in  the  extreme. — 
Overlooking  the  glassy  level  of  the  lake,  it  stood  on 
a mighty  barrow  or  tomb  like  a mount,  formed  of  the 
bones  of  Indian  nations,  there  heaped  up  from  time 
immemorial,  and  covered  with  earth  and  herbage. — 
Finding  that  the  fort  mounted  no  artillery,  Marion 
resolved  to  make  his  approaches  in  a way  that 
should  give  his  riflemen  a fair  chance  against  their 
musqueteers.  For  this  purpose,  large  quantities  of 
pine  logs  were  cut,  and  as  soon  as  dark  came  on,  were 
carried  in  perfect  silence,  within  point  blank  shot  of 
the  fort,  and  run  up  in  the  shape  of  large  pens  or 
chimney-stacks,  considerably  higher  than  the  enemy’s 
parapets.  Great,  no  doubt,  was  the  consternation  of 
the  garrison  next  morning,  to  see  themselves  thus 
suddenly  overlooked  by  this  strange  kind  of  steeple, 
pouring  down  upon  them  from  its  blazing  top  inces- 
sant showers  of  ride  bullets.  Nor  were  they  idle  the 
while,  but  returned  the  blaze  with  equal  fury,  pre- 
senting to  us,  who  lay  at  a distance,  a very  interesting 
scene — as  of  two  volcanoes  that  had  suddenly  broke 
out  into' fiery  strife,  singeing  the  neighbouring  pines. 

Though  their  enemy,  yet  I could  not  but  pity  the 
British,  when  I saw  the  great  disadvantage  under 
which  they  fought.  For  our  riflemen,  lying  above 
them  and  firing  through  loopholes,  were  seldom 
hurt;  while  the  British,  obliged,  every  time  they 
fired,  to  show  their  heads,  were  frequently  killed. — 
Increasing  still  the  awkwardness  of  their  situation, 
their  xvell , which  was  on  the  outside  of  the  fort,  was 
so  entirely  in  the  reach  of  our  rifles,  that  they  could 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


217 

not  get  a pail  of  water  for  coffee  or  grog,  without  the 
utmost  hazard.  After  a gallant  resistance,  they  sur- 
rendered themselves  prisoners  of  war ; one  hundred 
and  twenty  in  number. 

This  fort  had  been  very  judiciously  fixed  in  a coun- 
try exceedingly  fertile,  and  on  a lake  abounding  with 
fine  fish,  and  from  its  contiguity  to  the  river  Santee, 
forming  an  admirable  deposite  for  their  upland  posts. 
From  their  military  storehouse,  which  was  on  the 
outside  of  the  fort,  the  British  attempted,  at  the  com- 
mencement of  our  attack,  to  get  out  their  goods,  and 
to  roll  them  up  into  the  fort.  But  in  this  exposed 
state,  their  men  were  picked  off  so  fast  by  our  sharp- 
shooters, that  they  were  soon  obliged  to  quit  such 
hot  work. 

The  sight  of  their  casks  and  bales,  rolled  out  and 
shining  so  richly  on  the  side  of  the  hill,  set  the  fingers 
of  our  ragged  militia-men  on  such  an  itch,  that  there 
was  no  resisting  it.  And  presently  a squad  of  three 
of  them  were  seen  pushing  out,  without  leave  or  li- 
cense, to  attack  a large  hogshead,  that  lay  very  invit- 
ingly on  the  outside  of  the  rest.  The  enemy  seeing 
the  approach  of  our  buccaneers,  reserved  their  fire 
until  they  had  got  pretty  near  up  to  the  intended 
prize ; then  all  at  once  cut  loose  upon  them  with  a 
thundering  clap,  which  killed  one,  cripp^d  a second, 
and  so  frightened  the  third,  that  he  foi  got  the  cask, 
and  turning  tail,  thought  of  nothing  but  to  save  his 
bacon ! which  he  did  by  such  extraordinary  running 
and  jumping,  as  threw  us  all  into  a most  immoderate 
laugh. 

Presently  up  comes  my  black  waiter,  Billy,  with  a 
broad  grin  on  his  face,  and  says,  u Why,  master,  them 
militia-»men  there,  sir,  are  tarnal  fools : they  do  not 
know  nothing  at  all  about  stealing.  But  if  you  will 
please,  sir,  to  let  me  try  my  hand,  I can  fetch  off  that 
hogshead  there,  mighty  easy,  sir.” 

“No,  no,  Billy!”  said  I,  shaking  my  head,  “ that 

T 


218 


THE  LIFE  OF 


will  never  do,  my  lad.  I value  you  much  too  highly, 
Billy,  to  let  you  be  knocked  on  the  head,  so  foolishly 
as  all  that  comes  to.” 

44  Lord  bless  you,  sir,”  replied  he,  smiling,  “ there 
is  no  more  danger  in  it,  than  in  eating  when  a body  is 
hungry.  And  if  you  will  only  please  let  me  try  my 
hand,  sir,  if  you  see  any  danger,  why  then,  master, 
you  may  call  me  back,  you  know,  sir.” 

Upon  this  he  started.  Fortunately  for  him  our 
riflemen,  seeing  what  he  was  after,  made  a noble  di- 
version in  his  favour,  by  throwing  a galling  fire  into 
the  fort.  On  getting  within  thirty  yards  of  the  hogs- 
head, he  fell  flat  on  his  face,  and  dragged  himself  along 
on  his  belly  until  he  reached  it.  Then  seizing  the 
hogshead  with  a hand  on  each  chine  he  worked  it  back- 
wards and  backwards,  like  an  alligator  pulling  a dog 
into  the  river,  until  he  had  fairly  roiled  his  prize  to  the 
brink  of  the  hill,  where,  giving  it  a sudden  jerk  by 
way  of  a start,  and  at  the  same  time  jumping  up,  he 
ran  with  all  his  might  down  the  precipice,  the  hogs- 
head hard  after  him,  and  was  soon  out  of  all  danger. 
Numbers  of  shot  were  fired  at  him,  but  not  one 
touched  him,  which  gave  great  joy  to  our  encamp- 
ment, who  were  all  anxious  spectators  of  the  trans- 
action, and  seemed  to  take  a deep  interest  in  Billy’s 
success.  And  no  wonder  ; for  he  was  a most  noble- 
hearted  fellow,  and  exceedingly  useful  in  camp.  Offi- 
cers or  soldiers,  cadets  or  colonels,  no  matter  who 
they  were,  that  asked  Billy  a favour,  they  were  sure 
to  have  it  done  for  them  ; and  with  such  a cheerful 
air,  as  did  them  more  good  than  the  service  itself. 
So  that  I much  question,  whether  there  was  a man  in 
all  our  camp,  whose  good  luck  would  have  given 
more  general  satisfaction  than  his. 

On  opening  Bill’s  hogshead,  which  indeed  was  no 
hogshead,  but  rather  a puncheon,  as  big  as  two  hogs- 
heads, there  was  a prodigious  stare  among  our  men 
at  the  sight  of  so  much  wealth. 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION.  219 

100  strong  white  shirts  for  soldiers, 

50  fine  do.  do.  for  officers, 

50  camp  blankets, 

100  black  stocks, 

100  knapsacks,  and 
6 dragoon’s  cloaks, 

were  the  valuable  contents  of  Billy’s  cask.  The  na- 
tive genius  of  the  poor  fellow  instantly  broke  out  in 
a stream  of  generous  actions,  which  never  stopped, 
until  the  hogshead  was  completely  emptied.  First  of 
all,  he  began  with  me,  to  whom  he  presented  half  a 
dozen  of  the  fine  shirts  and  black  stocks,  with  a dra- 
goon’s cloak.  Then  to  the  general  he  made  a present, 
also  to  the  officers  of  his  family.  To  his  fellow-ser- 
vants, who  messed  with  him,  he  gave  two  shirts 
a-piece.  But  what  pleased  me  most  in  Billy’s  dona- 
tions, was  his  generosity  to  the  two  men  who  had 
miscarried  in  their  attempt  on  the  same  cask.  Seeing 
that  they  were  much  mortified  at  their  ozvn  failure , 
and  a little  perhaps  at  his  success , he  desired  them  to 
come  and  help  themselves  to  -what  they  liked . Hear- 
ing him  then  express  a wish  that  he  knew  what  to  do 
with  the  balance,  I told  him  that  many  of  our  dragoons 
were  poor  men,  and  much  in  want  of  shirts.  u Aye , 
sure  enough said  he,  and  immediately  handed  them 
out  a shirt  a-piece,  until  all  were  gone: 

For  this  generosity  of  Billy’s,  general  Marion  dub- 
bed him  u captain  Billy,”  a name  which  he  went  by 
ever  afterwards.  Nothing  was  ever  more  seasonable 
than  this  supply,  purchased  by  Billy’s  valour ; for  be- 
fore that,  we  were  all  as  ragged  as  young  rooks. 
There  was  not  an  officer  in  camp,  except  colonel  Lee 
and  his  staff,  who  was  so  rich  as  to  own  two  shirts. 
I am  very  sure  that  Marion’s  aids  had  but  ode 
a-piece.  And  yet  so  independent  of  wealth  is  cheer- 
fulness, that  I have  often  seen  our  officers  in  their 
naked  huffs,  near  a branch,  singing  and  dancing  around 
their  shirts,  which  they  had  just  washed,  and  hung  on 
the  bushes  to  dry. 


220 


THE  LIFE  OF 


From  the  reduction  of  fort  Watson,  we  set  out  in  - 
mediately  in  high  spirits,  for  the  still  nobler  attack 
on  fort  Motte.  For  the  sake  of  fine  air,  and  water, 
and  handsome  accommodations,  the  British  had  erect- 
ed this  fort  in  the  yard  of  Mrs.  Motte’s  elegant  new 
house,  which  was  nearly  enclosed  in  their  works.  But 
alas  ! so  little  do  poor  mortals  know  what  they  are 
about ! the  fine  house,  which  they  had  rudely  taken 
from  poor  Mrs.  Motte,  proved  to  the  British,  what 
his  gay  shirt  did  to  Hercules.  It  wrought  their  down- 
fall. For,  after  a fierce  contest,  in  which  many  valu- 
able lives  were  lost  on  both  sides,  through  the  sharp 
shooting  of  the  yaugers,  and  the  still  closer  cutting  of 
our  riflemen,  it  struck  Marion  that  he  could  quickly 
drive  the  enemy  out  of  the  fort,  by  setting  the  house 
on  fire.  But  poor  Mrs.  Motte ! a lone  widow,  whose 
plantation  had  been  so  long  ravaged  by  the  war,  her- 
self turned  into  a log  cabin,  her  negroes  dispersed, 
and  her  stock,  grain,  &c.  nearly  all  ruined  ! must  she 
now  lose  her  elegant  buildings  too  ? Such  scruples 
were  honourable  to  .he  general ; but  they  showed  his 
total  unacquaintedness  with  the  excellent  widow.  For 
at  the  first  glimpse  of  the  proposition,  she  exclaimed, 
u O ! burn  it ! burn  it,  general  Marion ! God  forbid  I 
should  bestow  a single  thought  on  my  little  concerns* 
when  the  independence  of  my  country  is  at  stake. — 
No  sir,  if  it  were  a palace  it  should  go.”  She  then 
stepped  to  her  closet  and  brought  out  a curious  bow 
with  a quiver  of  arrows,  which  a poor  African  boy 
purchased  from  on  board  a Guineaman,  had  formerly 
presented  her,  and  said,  u Here,  general,  here  is  what 
will  serve  your  purpose  to  a hair.”  The  arrows, 
pointed  with  iron,  and  charged  with  lighted  combus- 
tibles, were  shot  on  top  of  the  house,  to  which  they 
stuck,  and  quickly  communicated  the  flames.  The 
British,  two  hundred  in  number,  besides  a good  many 
tories,  instantly  hung  out  a white  flag  in  sign  of  sub- 
mission. 

The  excellent  Mrs.  Motte  was  present  when  her 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


221 


fine  new  house,  supposed  to  be  worth  six  thousand 
dollars,  took  fire ; and  without  a sigh,  beheld  the  red 
spiry  billows  prevailing  over  all  its  grandeur. 

The  day  after  the  destruction  of  her  house,  she 
invited  general  Marion  with  all  the  officers,  British 
as  well  as  American,  to  dine  with  her.  Having  now 
no  better  place  of  accommodation,  she  entertained 
us  under  a large  arbour  built  in  front  of  her  log  cabin, 
where,  with  great  pleasure,  I observed  that  the  same 
lady  could  one  day  act  the  Spartan,  and  the  next  the 
Parisian:  thus  uniting  in  herself,  the  rare  qualities 
of  the  heroine  and  the  Christian.  For  my  life  I could 
not  keep  my  eyes  from  her.  To  think  what  an  irre- 
parable injury  these  officers  had  done  her  ! and  yet 
to  see  her,  regardless  of  her  own  appetite,  selecting 
the  choicest  pieces  of  the  dish,  and  helping  them  with 
the  endearing  air  of  a sister,  appeared  to  me  one  of 
the  loveliest  spectacles  I had  ever  beheld.  It  produced 
the  happiest  effect  on  us  all.  Catching  her  amiahle 
spirit,  we  seemed  to  have  entirely  forgotten  our  pa 
animosities ; and  Britons  and  Americans  mingled  to- 
gether, in  smiles  and  cheerful  chat,  like  brothers.  I 
do  not  recollect  a transaction  in  the  whole  war,  in 
which  I can  think  that  God  looked  down  with  higher 
complacency  than  on  this.  And  to  the  day  of  my  • 
death,  I shall  believe,  that  God  enabled  us  to  beat  the 
British  in  arms,  because  we  had  so  far  beaten  them 
in  generosity.  Men,  who  imder  such  cruel  provoca- 
tions, could  display  such  moderation  as  we  did,  must 
certainly  have  given  our  Maker  good  hope,  that  we 
were  equal  to  the  glo^ous.  business  of  self-govern- 
ment ; or,  in  other  words,  of  living  under  a republic, 
which  must  certainly  be  his  delight,  because  both  im- 
plying and  producing  more  wisdom  and  virtue,  than 
any  other  government  among  men. 

The  name  of  the  British  commandant,  our  prisoner, 
was  Ferguson  ; and  a very  pleasant  gentleman  he  was 
too,  as  I found  on  getting  acquainted  with  him,  which 
I soon  did.  After  talking  over  our  various  adventures 
T 2 


222 


THE  LIFE  OF 


in  the  war,  he  asked  me  if  I did  not  command  the 
cavalry,  in  the  late  skirmishing  between  Watson  and 
Marion.  I told  him  I did.  “ Well,”  replied  he,  “you 
made  a very  lucky  escape  that  day : for  do  you  know 
that  we  were  twelve  hundred  strong,  owing  to  colonel 
Small’s  joining  us  in  the  march  ?” 

“ Then  truly,”  said  I,  u if  that  were  the  case,  I 
made  a lucky  escape,  sure  enough.” 

“ And  where  were  you,”  he  asked  again,  u when 
general  Marion  so  completely  surprised  our  guard  at 
Nelson’s  old  fields  : were  you  there  ?” 

I told  him  I was  not,  but  that  my  brother,  Hugh 
Horry,  was. 

“ Well,”  continued  he,  laughing  heartily, “ that  was 
my  lucky  day . I had  a command  there  that  morning 
of  about  thirty  men,  as  an  advance.  We  had  not  left 
the  guard  more  than  five  minutes  before  the  Ameri- 
cans charged  and  swept  all.  The  moment  we  heard  the 
firing  and  the  cries  of  our  people,  we  squatted  in  the 
high  grass  like  so  many  rabbits,  then  running  on  the 
stoop,  till  we  gained  the  woods,  we  cleared  ourselves.” 
I laughed,  and  asked  how  many  men  he  supposed 
Marion  had  that  morning. 

He  replied,  he  really  did  not  know,  but  supposed 
he  must  have  had  three  or  four  hundred. 

“ Well,  sir,”  said  I,  “ he  had  exactly  thirty.” 

The  reader  may  perhaps  conceive  Ferguson’s  as- 
tonishment : I cannot  describe  it. 

Soon  as  the  dishes  were  removed,  we  were  present- 
ed with  a spectacle  to  which  our  eyes  had  long  been 
strangers,  a brave  parade  of  excellent  wine : several 
hampers  of  which  had  been  received  at  the  fort  the 
very  day  before  we  commenced  the  attack.  To  poor 
soldiers  like  us,  who,  for  years,  had  hardly  quenched 
our  thirst  on  any  thing  better  than  water  or  apple 
brandy  grog,  this  was  a sight  immensely  refreshing. 
Whether  it  war  owing  to  the  virtues  of  this  noble  cor- 
dial, with  the  recollect*  on  of  our  late  glorious  victo- 
ries ; or  whether  it  was  the  happy  result  of  our  gene 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


**3 

rosity  to  the  enemy,  and  of  their  correspondent 
politeness  to  us,  I do  not  know ; but  certain  it  is,  we 
were  all  very  gay.  But  in  the  midst  of  our  enjoy- 
ments, which  none  seemed  to  relish  with  a higher 
glee  than  general  Marion,  a British  soldier  came  up 
and  whispered  to  one  of  their  officers,  who  instantly 
coming  round  to  the  general,  told  him  in  a low  voice, 
that  the  Americans  were  hanging  the  tories  who  had 
been  taken  in  the  fort ! 

In  a moment  he  sprang  up,  in  a violent  passion,  and 
snatching  his  sword,  ran  down  towards  our  encamp- 
ment. We  all  followed  him,  though  without  knowing 
the  cause.  On  turning  the  corner  of  the  garden  which 
had  concealed  their  cruel  deeds,  we  discovered  a sight 
most  shocking  to  humanity,  a poor  man  hanging  in  the 
air  to  the  beam  of  a gate,  and  struggling  hard  in  the 
agonies  of  deathv  “ Cut  him  down  ! cut  him  down  !” 
cried  the  general,  as  soon  as  he  had  got  near  enough 
to  be  heard,  which  was  instantly  done.  Then  running 
up,  with  cheeks  as  red  as  fire  coals,  and  half  choked 
with  rage,  he  bawled  out,  “ In  the  name  of  God  ! what 
are  you  about,  what  are  you  about  here  !” 

u Only  hanging  a few  tories,  sir,”  replied  captain 
Harrison  of  Lee’s  legion. 

u Who  gave  you  a right,  sir,  to  touch  the  tories  ?” 

To  this,  young  M‘Corde,  of  the  same  corps,  replied, 
that  it  was  only  three  or  four  rascals  of  them  that 
they  meant  to  hang ; and  that  they  had  not  supposed 
the  general  would  mind  that . 

“ What ! not  mind  murdering  the  prisoners.  Why, 
my  God ! what  do  you  take  me  to  be  ? do  you  take 
me  for  a devil  ?” 

Then,  after  placing  a guard  over  the  tories,  and 
vowing  to  make  an  example  of  the  first  man  who 
should  dare  to  offer  them  violence,  he  returned  with 
the  company  to  Mrs.  Motte’s  table. 

Of  the  three  unfortunate  tories  that  were  hung  deady 
one  was  named  Hugh  Mizcally.  The  name  of  the  per- 
son so  timely  cut  down  was  Levi  Smith,  a most  furi- 


224 


THE  LIFE  OF 

X dLi.  ^ 

ous  tory.  This  title  produced  him  such  respect  among 
those  degenerate  Britons,  that  they  appointed  him 
gatekeeper  of  Charleston,  a circumstance  that  ope 
rated  much  against  the  poor  whigs  in  the  country 
For  Smith  soon  broke  up  a pious  kind  of  fraud,  whicl 
the  wives  and  daughters  of  the  tories  had  for  some 
time  carried  on  at  a bold  rate. 

To  the  immortal  honour  of  the  ladies  of  South  Ca- 
rolina, they  were  much  more  whiggishly  given  than 
the  men  ; insomuch  that  though  married  to  tories, 
they  would  be  whigs  still. 

These  fair  ladies,  in  consequence  of  their  relation 
to  the  tories,  could,  at  pleasure,  pass  into  Charleston  ; 
which  they  never  left  without  bringing  off  quantities 
of  broad  cloth  cut  and  jumped  into  petticoats,  and  art- 
fully hid  under  their  gowns.  The  broad  cloth,  thus 
brought  off,  was  for  regimentals  for  our  officers. — 
Things  went  on  swimmingly  in  this  way  for  a long 
time,  till  Smith,  getting  one  day  more  groggy  and 
impudent  than  usual,  swore  that  some  young  women 
who  were  going  out  at  the  gate,  looked  much  bigger 
over  the  hips  than  they  had  need,  and  insisted  on  a 
search.  The  truth  is,  these  fair  patriots,  preparing 
for  a great  wedding  in  the  country,  had  thus  spoiled 
their  shape,  and  brought  themselves  to  all  this  dis- 
grace by  their  over  greediness  for  finery.  But  Mr. 
tory  Smith  affected  to  be  so  enraged  by  this  trick, 
which  the  girls  had  attempted  to  play  on  him,  that  he 
would  never  afterwards  suffer  a woman  to  pass  with- 
out first  pulling  up  her  clothes. 

He  carried  his  zeal  to  such  length,  as  one  day  very 
grossly  to  insult  a genteel  old  lady,  a Mrs.  M‘Corde. 

Her  son,  who  was  a dragoon  in  Lee’s  legion,  swore 
vengeance  against  Smith,  and  would,  as  we  have  seen, 
have  taken  his  life,  had  not  Gen.  Marion  interposed. 

In  the  Charleston  papers  of  that  day,  1781,  Smith 
gives  the  history  of  his  escape  from  Marion,  wherein 
he  relates  an  anecdote,  which,  if  it  be  true,  and  I see 


225 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION^  ' 225  1 2-^{ 

no  reasoiydo  doubt'll,  sho^%c^VenougS  that  his  ij 
toryism  cost  him  dear.  7 

In  his  confinement  at  Motte’s  house,  he  was  exces- 
sively uneasy.  Well  knowing  that  the  whigs  owed 
him  no  good  will,  and  fearing  that  the  next  time  they 
got  a halter  round  his  neck,  he  might  find  no  Marion 
to  take  his  part,  he  determined  if  possible  to  run  oil. 

The  tories  were  all  handcuffed  two  and  two,  and  con- 
fined together  under  a centinel,  in  what  was  called  a 
bull-pen , made  of  pine  trees,  cut  down  so  judgmati- 
cally  as  to  form,  by  their  fall,  a pen  or  enclosure.  It 
was  Smith’s  fortune  to  have  for  his  yokefellow  a poor 
sicklv  creature  of  a tory,  who,  though  hardly  able  to 
go  high-low,  was  prevailed  on  to  desert  with  him. 

They  had  not  travelled  far  into  the  woods,  before  his 
sick  companion,  quite  overcome  with  fatigue, declared 
he  could  go  no  farther,  and  presently  fell  down  in  a 
swoon.  Confined  by  the  handcuffs,  Smith  was  obliged 
to  lie  by  him  in  the  woods,  two  days  and  nights, 
without  meat  or  drink  ! and  his  comrade  frequently 
in  convulsions!  On  the  third  day  he  died.  Unable 
to  bear  it  any  longer,  Smith  drew  his  knife  and  se- 
parated himself  from  the  dead  man,  by  cutting  oil 
his  arm  at  the  elbow,  which  he  bore  with  him  to 

Charleston.  . , , . . * 

The  British  heartily  congratulated  his  return,  and 
restored  him  to  his  ancient  honour  of  sitting,  Morde- 
cai-like,  at  the  king’s  gate,  where,  it  is  said,  he  be- 
haved very  decently  ever  afterwards. 

' Smith’s  friends  say  of  him,  that  in  his  own  country 
(South  Carolina)  he  hardly  possessed  money  enough 
to  buy  a pig,  but  when  he  got  to  England,  after  the 
war,  he  made  out  as  if  the  rebels  had  robbed  him  of 
as  many  flocks  and  herds  as  the  wild  Arabs  did  Job. 

The  British  government,  remarkable  for  generosity 
to  their  friends  in  distress,  gave  him  money  enough 
to  return  to  South  Carolina  with  a pretty  assortment 
of  merchandise.  And  he  is  now,  I am  told,  as  weal- 


226 


THE  LIFE  OF 


thy  as  a Jew,  and,  which  is  still  more  to  his  credit, 
as  courteous  as  a Christian. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

The  author  congratulates  his  dear  country  on  her  late 
glorious  victories — recapitulates  British  cruelties , 
drawing  after  them,  judicially,  a succession  of  ter- 
rible overthrows . 

HAPPY  Carolina ! I exclaimed,  as  our  late  victo- 
ries passed  over  my  delighted  thoughts  ; happy  Caro- 
lina ! dear  native  country,  hail ! long  and  dismal  has 
been  the  night  of  thy  affliction  : but  now  rise  and 
sing,  for  thy  u light  is  breaking  forth,  and  the  dawn 
of  thy  redemption  is  brightening  around.” 

For  opposing  the  curses  of  slavery,  thy  noblest  citi- 
zens have  been  branded  as  rebels,  and  treated  with  a 
barbarity  unknown  amongst  civilized  nations.  They 
have  been  taken  from  their  beds  and  weeping  fami- 
lies, and  transported,  to  pine  and  die  in  a land  of 
strangers. 

They  have  been  crowded  into  midsummer  jails 
and  dungeons*  there,  unpitied,  to  perish  amidst  suf- 
focation and  stench;  while  their  wives  and  children, 
in  mournful  groups  around  the  walls,  were  asking 
with  tears  for  their  husbands  and  fathers  ! 

They  have  been  wantonly  murdered  with  swords 
and  bayonets,!  or  hung  up  like  dogs  to  ignominious 
gibbets. 

* All  Europe  was  filled  with  horror  at  the  history  of  the  one 
hundred  and  twenty  unfortunate  Englishmen  that  were  suffo- 
cated in  the  black  hole  at  Calcutta.  Little  was  it  thought  that 
an  English  nobleman  (lord  Rawdon)  would  so  soon  have  repeated 
that  crime,  by  crowding  one  hundred  and  sixty-four  unfortunate 
Americans  into  a small  prison  in  Camden,  in  the  dogdays. 

| A Brother  of  that  excellent  man,  major  Linning,  of  Charles- 
ton, was  taken  from  his  plantation  on  Ashley  river,  by  one  ot 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


227 


They  have  been  stirred  up  and  exasperated  against 
each  other,  to  the  most  unnatural  and  bloody  strifes, 
w Fathers  to  kill  their  sons , and  brothers  to  put  bro- 
thers to  death  /” 

Such  were  the  deeds  of  Cornwallis  and  his  officers 
in  Carolina!  And  while  the  churches  in  England  were, 
every  where,  resounding  with  prayers  to  Almighty 
God,  “to  spare  the  effusion  of  human  blood,”  those 
monsters  were  shedding  it  with  the  most  savage  wan- 
tonness ! While  all  the  good  people  in  Britain  were 
praying,  day  and  night,  for  a speedy  restoration  of 
the  former  happy  friendship  between  England  and 
America,  those  wretches  were  taking  the  surest  steps 
to  drive  all  friendship  from  the  American  bosom,  and 
to  kindle  the  flames  of  everlasting  hatred  ! 

But,  blessed  be  God,  the  tears  of  the  widows  and 
orphans  have  prevailed  against  them,  and  the  righte- 
ous Judge  of  all  the  earth  is  rising  up  to  make  inqui- 
sition for  the  innocent  blood  which  they  have  shed. 
And  never  was  his  hand  more  visibly  displayed  in 
the  casting  down  of  the  wicked,  than  in  humbling 
Cornwallis  and  his  bloody  crew. 

At  this  period,  1780,  the  western  extremities  were 
the  only  parts  of  the  state  that  remained  free.  To 
swallow  these  up,  Cornwallis  sent  Col.  Ferguson,  a fa- 
vourite officer,  with  fourteen  hundred  men.  Hearing 
of  the  approach  of  the  enemy,  and  of  their  horrible 
cruelties,  the  hardy  mountaineers  rose  up  as  one  man, 
from  Dan  to  Beersheba.  They  took  their  faithful  rifles. 
They  mounted  their  horses,  and  with  each  his  bag  of 
oats,  and  a scrap  of  victuals,  they  set  forth  to  find  the 
enemy.  They  had  no  plan,  no  general  leader.  The 

the  enemy’s  galleys,  and  thrust  down  into  the  hold.  At  night  the 
officers  began  to  drink  and  sing,  and  kept  it  up  till  twelve  o’clock, 
when,  by  way  of  f rolic,  they  had  him  brought,  though  sick,  into 
their  cabin,  held  a court  martial  over  him,  sentenced  him  to 
death,  very  deliberately  executed  the  sentence  by  stabbing  him 
with  bayonets,  and  then  threw  his  mangled  body  into  the  river 
for  the  sharks  and  crabs  to  devour! 


THE  LIFE  OF 


528 

youth  of  each  district,  gathering  around  their  own 
brave  colonel,  rushed  to  battle.  But  though  seemingly 
blind  and  headlong  as  their  own  mountain  streams, 
yet  there  was  a hand  unseen  that  guided  their  course. 
They  all  met,  as  by  chance , near  the  King’s  moun- 
tain, where  the  ill-fated  Ferguson  encamped.  Their 
numbers  counted,  made  three  thousand.  That  the 
work  and  victory  may  be  seen  to  be  of  God,  they 
sent  back  all  but  one  thousand  chosen  men. 

A thousand  men  on  mountains  bred, 

With  rifles  all  so  bright, 

Who  knew  full  well,  in  time  of  need, 

To  aim  their  guns  aright. 

At  parting,  the  ruddy  warriors  shook  hands  with 
their  returning  friends,  and  sent  their  love.  “ Tell 
our  fathers,”  said  they,  u that  we  shall  think  of  them, 
in  the  battle,  and  draw  our  sights  the  truer.” 

Then  led  on  by  the  brave  colonels  Campbell,  Cleve- 
land, Shelby,  Sevier,  and  Williams,  they  ascended  the 
hill  and  commenced  the  attack.  Like  Sinai  of  old,  thtf 
top  of  the  mountain  was  soon  wrapped  in  smoke  an 4 
flames  ; the  leaden  deaths  came  whizzing  from  all 
quarters  ; and  in  forty  minutes  Ferguson  was  slain, 
and  the  whole  of  his  party  killed,  wounded  or  taken. 

To  avenge  this  mortifying  blow,  Cornwallis  des- 
patched colonel  Tarleton  with  thirteen  hundred  and 
fifty  picked  troops,  against  Morgan,  who  had  but 
nine  hundred  men,  and  these  more  than  half  militia. 
At  the  first  onset,  the  militia  fled,  leaving  Morgan 
with  only  four  hundred  to  contend  against  thirteen 
hundred  and  fifty,  rushing  on  furiously  as  to  certain 
victory.  What  spectator  of  this  scene  must  not  have 
given  up  all  for  lost,  and  with  tears  resigned  this  lit- 
tle forlorn,  to  that  unsparing  slaughter  which  colonel 
Tarleton  delighted  in  ? But,  contrary  to  all  human 
expectation,  the  devoted  handful  stood  their  ground, 
and,  in  a short  time,  killed  and  captured  nearly  the 
whole  of  their  proud  assailants  ! 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


229 


Raging  like  a wounded  tiger,  Cornwallis  destroys 
all  his  heavy  baggage,  and  pushes  hard  after  Morgan. 
The  pursuit  is  urged  with  unimaginable  fury : and 
Cornwallis  gains  so  fast  upon  the  Americans,  encum- 
bered with  their  prisoners,  that  on  the  evening  of  the 
ninth  day  he  came  up  to  the  banks  of  the  Catawba, 
just  as  Morgan’s  rear  had  crossed  at  a deep  ford. 
Before  the  wished-for  morning  returned,  the  river 
was  so  swollen  by  a heavy  rain,  that  Cornwallis  could 
not  pass.  Adoring  the  hand  of  Heaven,  the  Ameri- 
cans continued  their  flight.  On  the  morning  of  the 
third  day,  Cornwallis  renewed  the  pursuit  with  redou- 
bled fury,  and  by  the  ninth  evening,  came  up  to  the 
banks  of  the  Yadkin,  just  as  Morgan’s  last  rifle  corps 
was  about  to  take  the  ford.  * Presently  the  rain  came 
rushing  down  in  torrents,  and  by  the  morning  light 
the  furious  river  was  impassable  ! Who  so  blind  as 
not  to  acknowledge  the  hand  of  God  in  all  this  ? 

Soon  as  he  could  get  over,  the  wrathful  Cornwallis 
renewed  the  pursuit ; but  before  he  could  overtake 
them  at  Guildford  court-house,  the  Americans,  joined 
by  their  countrymen,  gave  him  battle,  and  killed  one 
third  of  his  army.  Cornwallis  then,  in  turn,  fled  be- 
fore the  Americans  ; and  as  he  had  outmarched  them 
before,  he  outran  them  now,  and  escaped  safely  to 
Wilmington.  With  largely  recruited  force  he  re- 
turned to  Virginia,  where  four  hundred  deluded  men, 
(tories)  under  colonel  Pyles,  came  forward  to  join 
him.  On  their  way  they  fell  in  with  Col.  Lee  and  his 
legion.  Mistaking  them  for  Tarleton  and  his  cavalry, 
they  wave  their  hats  and  cry  out,  44  God  save  the 
king!  God  save  the  king!”  Lee  encourages  the  mis- 
take, until  they  are  all  intermixed  with  his  dragoons, 
who  at  a signal  given,  draw  their  swords  and  hew  the 
wretches  to  pieces.  Only  one  hundred  make  their 
escape.  These  fall  in,  the  next  day,  with  colonel 
Tarleton,  who,  mistaking  them  for  what  he  called 
44  damned  rebels,”  ordered  his  troops  to  charge , which 
they  did;  and  regardless  of  their  repeated  cries,  that 
U 


230 


THE  LIFE  OF 


<c  they  were  the  king’s  best  friends,”  put  most  of  them 
to  death. 

Thus  wonderfully  did  God  baffle  lord  Cornwallis, 
and  visit  a sudden  and  bloody  destruction  upon  those 
unnatural  wretches,  who  were  going  forth  to  plunge 
their  swords  into  the  bowels  of  their  own  country  ! 

After  this,  being  joined  by  all  the  British  troops  in 
that  quarter,  he  rolled  on  like  an  angry  flood  to  Wil- 
liamsburgh  and  York,  where  God  sent  his  servant 
Washington,  who  presently  captured  him  and  his 
fleet  and  army,  near  ten  thousand  strong. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

The  British  evacuate  Charleston — great  joy  of  the 
citizens — patriotism  of  the  Charleston  ladies. 

AS  when  a lion  that  has  long  kept  at  bay  the  fierce 
assaulting  shepherds,  receives  at  last  his  mortal  wound, 
suddenly  the  monster  trembles  under  the  deadly 
stroke  ; and,  sadly  howling,  looks  around  with  wistful 
eye  towards  his  native  woods.  Such  was  the  shock 
given  to  the  British,  when  the  sword  of  heaven-aided 
justice  struck  down  the  bloody  Cornwallis.  With 
him  fell  the  hopes  of  the  enemy  throughout  our  state. 

In  Charleston,  their  officers  were  seen  standing  to- 
gether in  groups,  shaking  their  heads  as  they  talked 
of  the  dreadful  news.  While  those  who  had  marched 
up  so  boldly  into  the  country,  now  panic-struck,  were 
every  where  busied  in  demolishing  their  works,  blow- 
ing up  their  magazines,  and  hurrying  back  to  town  in 
the  utmost  dismay.  Hard  pressing  upon  the  rear, 
we  followed  the  steps  of  their  flight,  joyfully  chasing 
them  from  a country  which  they  had  stained  with 
blood,  and  pursuing  them  to  the  very  gates  of  Charles- 
ton. As  we  approached  the  city,  our  eyes  were  pre- 
sented with  scenes  of  desolation  sufficient  to  damp  all 
nearts,  and  to  inspire  the  deepest  sense  of  the  hGrrors 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MA.RION. 


231 


of  war.  Robbed  of  all  animal  and  vegetable  life,  the 
neighbouring  plantations  seemed  but  as  dreary  de- 
serts, compared  with  what  they  once  were,  when,  co- 
vered with  sportive  flocks  and  herds,  and  rice  and 
corn,  they  smiled  with  plenteousness  and  joy.  In  the 
fields,  the  eyes  beheld  no  sign  of  cheerful  crops,  not 
in  the  woods  any  shape  of  living  beast  or  bird,  except 
a few  mournful  buzzards,  silently  devouring  the  un- 
buried flesh  of  some  poor  wretched  mortals,  who  had 
fallen  in  the  late  rencontres  between  the  English  and 
Americans.  Indeed, had  those  days  continued,  no  flesh 
could  have  been  saved ; but  blessed  be  God,  who 
shortened  them,  by  chastising  the  aggressors  (the 
British)  as  we  have  seen. 

On  the  memorable  14th  of  December,  1782,  we  en- 
tered and  took  possession  of  our  capital,  after  it  had 
been  two  years  seven  months  and  two  days  in  the 
hands  of  the  enemy.  The  style  of  our  entry  was 
quite  novel  and  romantic.  On  condition  of  not  being 
molested  while  embarking,  the  British  had  offered  to 
leave  the  town  unhurt.  Accordingly,  at  the  firing  of 
a signal  gun  in  the  morning,  as  agreed  on,  they  quit- 
ted their  advanced  works,  near  the  town  gate,  while 
the  Americans,  moving  on  close  in  the  rear,  follow- 
ed them  all  along  through  the  city  down  to  the 
water’s  edge,  where  they  embarked  on  board  their 
three  hundred  ships,  which,  moored  out  in  the  bay  in 
the  shape  of  an  immense  half  moon,  presented  a most 
magnificent  appearance. 

The  morning  was  as  lovely  as  pure  wintry  air  and 
cloudless  sunbeams  could  render  it ; but  rendered  far 
lovelier  still  by  our  procession , if  I may  so  call  it, 
which  was  well  calculated  to  awaken  the  most  plea- 
surable feelings.  In  front,  were  the  humble  remains 
of  that  proud  army,  which,  one  and  thirty  months  ago, 
captured  our  city,  and  thence,  in  the  drunkenness  of 
victory,  had  hurled  menaces  and  cruelties  disgraceful 
to  the  British  name: — And  close  in  the  rear,  was 
our  band  of  patriots,  bending  forward  with  martial 


232 


THE  LIFE  OF 


music  and  flying  colours,  to  play  the  last  joyful  act  in 
the  drama  of  their  country’s  deliverance  ; to  proclaim 
liberty  to  the  captive  ; to  recall  the  smile  on  the  cheek 
of  sorrow  ; and  to  make  the  heart  of  the  widow  leap 
for  joy.  Numbers,  who,  for  years,  had  been  confined 
to  a single  room  in  their  own  elegant  houses,  could 
now  throw  open  their  long-locked  doors,  and  breathe 
and  walk  at  large  in  these  beloved  apartments,  from 
which  they  had  been  so  long  excluded.  Numbers, 
who,  for  years,  had  mourned  their  separation  from 
children,  wives,  and  sires,  were  now  seen  rushing, 
with  trembling  joy,  to  the  long-coveted  embrace.  Oh  ! 
it  was  a day  of  jubilee  indeed!  a day  of  rejoicing 
never  to  be  forgotten.  Smiles  and  tears  were  on  every 
face.  For  who  could  remain  unmoved,  when  they  saw 
the  little  children  running  with  outstretched  arms  to 
embrace  their  long  absent  fathers  ; when  they  saw  the 
aged  trembling  with  years  and  affection,  clasping  their 
warrior  sons,  glorious  in  arms,  and  those  sons,  with 
pleasure-sparkling  eyes,  returning  the  pious  embrace, 
and  congratulating  the  deliverance  of  their  fathers ; 
while  all  along  the  streets,  as  we  moved  n clouds  of 
joy-rolling  dust,  nothing  was  to  be  hear  i but  shouts 
of,  Liberty  and  America  for  ever;  and  nothing 
was  to  be  seen  but  crowds  of  citizens  shaking  hands 
and  thanking  God  for  bringing  them  to  see  that  hap- 
py day.  And  to  crown  all,  on  both  sides  of  us,  as  we 
marched  in  shining  rows,  stood  our  beauteous  coun- 
try women,  mingling  their  congratulations.  The  day 
was  precious  to  all,  but  none  I believe  enjoyed  it  so 
highly  as  did  the  ladies  of  Charleston.  Being,  great 
numbers  of  them  at  least,  women  of  fortune  and  libe- 
ral education,  they  had  early  discovered  the  deformi- 
ty of  lord  North’s  enslaving  principles,  u unconditional 
taxation ,”  which  they  abhorred  worse  than  the  yaws  ; 
and  hating  the  measure,  they  could  not  but  dislike  the 
men  who  were  come  to  execute  it.  In  common  with 
their  sex,  they  were  sufficiently  partial  to  soldiers  of 
honour.  But  alas  ! they  were  not  permitted  the  plea- 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


233 


sure  to  contemplate  the  British  in  that  prepossessing 
light.  On  the  contrary,  compelled  to  view  them  as 
mere  fighting  machines , venal  wretches,  who  for  pay 
and  plunder,  had  degraded  the  man  into  the  brute., 
the  Briton  into  the  buccaneer,  how  could  they 
otherwise  than  detest  them  ? 

Nor  were  the  manners  of  the  British  officers  at  all 
calculated  to  remove  those  antipathies.  Coming  to 
America,  under  the  impression  that  the  past  genera- 
tion were  convicts , and  the  present  rebels , they  looked 
on  and  treated  their  daughters  only  as  pretty  Creoles , 
whom  it  was  doing  great  honour  to  smile  on  ! 

But  this  prejudice  against  the  British  officers,  found- 
ed first  on  their  sordidness , then,  secondly , fed  by  their 
insolence , was,  thirdly  and  lastly , matured  by  their 
cruelty . To  see  the  heads  of  their  first  families, 
without  even  a charge  of  crime,  dragged  from  their 
beds  at  midnight,  and  packed  off  like  slaves  to  St. 
Augustine ; to  see  one  of  their  most  esteemed  coun- 
trymen, the  amiable  colonel  Haynes,  hung  up  like  a 
dog  before  their  eyes  ; and  to  hear  continually,  from 
all  parts,  of  the  horrid  house-burnings  and  murders 
committed  by  Rawdon,  Tarleton,  W eymies,  and  their 
tory  and  negro  allies,  filled  up  the  measure  of  female 
detestation  of  the  British  officers.  They  scorned  to 
be  seem  in  the  same  public  walks  with  them ; would 
not  touch  a glove  or  snuff-box  from  their  hands  ; and 
in  short,  turned  away  from  them  as  from  the  com- 
monest felons  or  cut-thrcats.  And  on  the  other  hand, 
to  be  treated  thus  by  buckskin  girls , the  rebel  daught- 
ers of  convict  parents,  was  more  than  the  British  offi- 
cers could  put  up  with.  The  whig  ladies,  of  course, 
were  often  insulted,  and  that  very  grossly  too ; and 
not  only  often  threatened,  but  actually  thrown  into  the 
provost  or  bastile.  No  wonder  then  that  they  were 
highly  delighted  to  see  such  rude  enemies,  after  re- 
peated overthrows  in  the  country,  chased  hack  to 
town,  and  thence,  covered  with  disgrace,  embarking 
to  leave  the  country  for  ever.  No  wonder  that,  on 

U 2 


234 


THE  LIFE  OF 


hearing  of  our  line  of  march  that  morning,  they  had 
decked  themselves  in  their  richest  habits,  and  at  the 
first  sound  of  our  drums,  flew  to  their  doors,  windows, 
and  balconies,  to  welcome  our  return. 

Never  before  had  they  appeared  half  so  charming. 
Sweet  are  the  flowers  of  the  field  at  every  season  of 
the  year,  but  doubly  sweet,  when,  after  long  icy  win- 
ter, they  spread  all  their  blossoms  to  the  springtide 
sun.  Even  so  the  daughters  of  Charleston,  though 
always  fair,  yet  never  seemed  so  passing  fair  as  now, 
when  after  sustaining  the  long  wintry  storms  of  Bri- 
tish oppression,  they  came  forth  in  all  their  patriot 
charms  to  greet  the  welcome  beams  of  returning  li- 
berty. And  never  shall  I forget  the  accents  of  those 
lovely  lips,  which,  from  behind  their  waving  handker- 
chiefs, that  but  half  concealed  their  angel  blushes, 
exclaiming,  u God  bless  you,  gentlemen  ! God  bless 
you  ! welcome ! welcome  to  your  homes  again  !” 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

Marion  returns  to  his  plantation— is  appointed  a mem- 
ber of  the  legislature — some  valuable  anecdotes  oj 
him — his  marriage — and  retirement . 

AFTER  the  retreat  of  the  British  from  Carolina, 
Marion  sheathed  his  sword  for  lack  of  argument , and 
went  up  to  cultivate  his  little  plantation  in  St.  John’s 
parish,  where  he  was  born.  But  the  gratitude  of  his 
countrymen  did  not  long  allow  him  to  enjoy  the 
sweets  of  that  rural  life,  of  which  he  was  uncom- 
monly fond.  At  the  next  election,  he  was  in  some 
sort  compelled  to  stand  as  a candidate  for  the  legisla- 
ture, to  which,  by  an  unanimous  voice,  he  was  sent, 
to  aid  with  his  counsel,  the  operations  of  that  govern- 
ment, to  whose  freedom  his  sword  had  so  largely  con- 
tributed. The  friends  of  humanity  were  all  highly 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


2 35 


pleased  with  his  call  to  the  legislature.  From  his  well 
known  generosity  to  his  enemies,  during  the  war,  they 
fondly  hoped  he  would  do  every  thing  in  his  power 
to  extinguish  that  horrid  flame  of  revenge,  which  still 
glowed  in  the  bosoms  of  many  against  the  tories.  Nor 
did  Marion  disappoint  their  hopes.  His  face  was  al- 
ways, and  undauntedlv,  set  against  every  proposition 
that  savoured  of  severity  to  the  tories,  whom  he  used 
to  call  his  u poor  deluded  countrymen.”  The  reader 
may  form  some  idea  of  general  Marion  from  the  fol- 
lowing anecdote,  which  was  related  to  me  by  the 
honourable  Benjamin  Huger,  Esq. 

During  the  furious  contests  in  South  Carolina, 
between  the  British  and  Americans,  it  was  very  com- 
mon for  men  of  property  to  play  jack  of  both  sides , 
for  the  sake  of  saving  their  negroes  and  cattle. — 
Among  these,  a pretty  numerous  crew,  was  a wealthy 
old  blade,  who  had  the  advantage  of  one  of  those  very 
accommodating  faces,  that  could  shine  with  equal 
lustre  on  his  victorious  visitants,  whether  Britons  or 
buckskins.  Marion  soon  found  him  out ; and  as  soon 
gave  him  a broad  hint  how  heartily  he  despised  such 
trimming ; for  at  a great  public  meeting  where  the 
old  gentleman,  with  a smirking  face,  came  up  and 
presented  his  hand,  Marion  turned  from  him  without 
deigning  to  receive  it.  Every  body  was  surprised  at 
this  conduct  of  the  general,  and  some  spoke  of  it  in 
terms  of  high  displeasure.  However,  it  was  not  long 
before  they  caught  the  old  weathercock  at  one  of  his 
tricks,  and,  soon  as  the  confiscation  act  was  passed, 
had  him  down  on  the  black  list , fondly  hoping,  no 
doubt,  to  divide  a large  spoil.  Marion,  who  was  then 
a member  of  the  legislature,  arose  to  speak.  The  aged 
culprit,  who  also  was  present,  turned  pale  and  trem- 
bled at  the  sight  of  Marion,  giving  up  all  for  lost.— 
But  how  great,  how  agreeable  was  his  surprise,  when 
instead  of  hearing  the  general  thundering  against  him 
for  judgment,  he  heard  him  imploring  for  mercy! 
His  accusers  were,  if  possible,  still  more  astonished. 


236 


THE  LIFE  OF 


Having  counted  on  general  Marion  as  his  firmest  foe, 
they  were  utterly  mortified  to  find  him  his  fastest 
friend,  and,  venting  their  passion  with  great  freedom, 
taxed  him  with  inconsistency  and  fickleness  that  but 
illy  suited  with  general  Marion’s  character. 

u It  is  scarcely  eighteen  months,  sir,”  said  they, 
u since  you  treated  this  old  rascal  with  the  most 
pointed  and  public  contempt,  on  account  of  the  very 
crime  for  which  we  wish  to  punish  him.  And  here, 
now,  instead  of  taking  part  against  him,  you  have 
declared  in  his  favour,  and  have  become  his  warmest 
advocate  with  a legislature.” 

“ True,  gentlemen,”  replied  Marion,  u but  you 
should  remember  that  it  was  war  then  ; and  there- 
fore my  duty  to  make  a difference  between  the  real 
and  pretended  friends  of  my  country.  But  it  is  peace 
now,  and  we  ought  to  remember  the  virtues  of  men^ 
particularly  of  the  old  and  timid,  rather  than  their 
follies . And  we  ought  to  remember  too,  that  God 
has  given  us  the  victory,  for  which  we  owe  him  eter- 
nal gratitude.  But  cruelty  to  man  is  not  the  way  to 
show  our  gratitude  to  heaven.” 

Of  the  same  complexion  was  his  behaviour  in  a 
large  party  at  governor  Matthew’s  table,  just  after 
the  passage  of  the  famous  act  to  confiscate  the  estates 
of  the  tories.  “Coyne,  general, give  us  a toast,”  said  the 
governor.  The  glasses  were  all  filled,  and  the  eyes 
of  the  company  fixed  upon  the  general,  who,  waving 
his  bumper  in  the  air,  thus  nobly  called  out — u Well, 
gentlemen,  here's  damnation  to  the  confiscation  act” 
The  following  anecdote  of  Marion  I have  heard 
from  a thousand  lips,  ard  every  time  with  that  joy 
on  the  countenance,  which  evinced  the  deep  interest 
which  the  heart  takes  in  talking  of  things  that  are 
honourable  to  our  countrymen. 

While  Marxm  was  a member  of  the  legislature,  a 
petition  was  presented  to  the  house  for  an  act  of  am- 
nesty of  all  those  arbitrary  measures  which  the  Ame- 
rican officers  had  been  obliged  to  adopt  dur  ing  the  war, 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


237 


iti  order  to  get  horses,  provisions,  &c.  for  the  army. 
The  petition  was  signed  by  the  names  of  all  the  favou- 
rite officers  of  the  state,  and  among  the  rest,  by  that  of 
our  hero.  Some  of  his  friends,  it  seemed,  had  done  it 
for  him,  on  the  supposition  that  he  needed  such  an 
act  as  well  as  the  rest.  But  Marion,  who  had  listened 
very  attentively  to  the  reading  of  the  petition,  on  hear- 
ing his  name  mentioned  as  one  of  the  subscribers,  in- 
stantly arose,  and  insisted  that  his  name  should  be 
struck  off  from  that  paper.  He  said  u he  had  no  manner 
of  objection  to  the  petition;  on  the  contrary,  he  most 
heartily  approved  of  it,  and  meant  to  vote  for  it ; for 
well  did  he  know,  he  said,  that  during  the  war,  we 
had  among  us  a world  of  ignoramuses , who,  for  lack 
of  knowing  their  danger,  did  not  care  a fig  how  the 
war  went,  but  were  sauntering  about  in  the  woods, 
popping  at  the  squirrels,  when  they  ought  to  have 
been  in  the  field  fighting  the  British ; that  such  gen- 
tlemen, since  they  did  not  choose  to  do  any  thing  for 
their  country  themselves,  might  well  afford  to  let  their 
cattle  do  something;  and  as  they  had  not  shed  any  of 
their  blood  for  the  public  service,  they  might  certainly 
spare  a little  corn  to  it:  at  any  rate  he  had  no  notion, 
he  said,  of  turning  over  to  the  mercy  of  these  pol- 
troons, some  of  the  choicest  spirits  of  the  nation,  to 
be  prosecuted  and  torn  to  pieces  by  them ; but  that, 
nevertheless,  he  did  not  like  to  have  his  name  to  the 
petition,  for,  thank  God,  he  had  no  favours  to  ask  of 
them.  And  if,  during  the  war  for  his  country,  he  had 
done  any  of  them  harm,  there  was  he,  and  yonder 
his  property,  and  let  them  come  forward,  if  they  dare , 
and  demand  satisfaction .” 

And  I never  heard  of  any  man  who  ever  accused 
him  of  the  least  injury  done  him  during  all  the  war 
Marion  continued  a member  of  the  legislature,  un 
til  orders  were  issued  to  repair  and  put  in  commission 
Fort  Johnson,  to  the  command  of  which  he  was  ap- 
pointed, with  the  pay  of  about  twenty-two  hundred 
dollars  per  annum.  Though  this  salary  had  been 


233 


THE  LIFE  OF 


voted  him  chiefly  because  of  his  losses  during  the  war, 
yet  it  was  not  continued  to  him  longer  than  two  or 
three  years,  when  it  was  reduced  to  less  than  five  hun- 
dred dollars  annually.  Numbers  of  people  had  their 
feelings  greatly  hurt  on  this  occasion,  and,  I dare  say, 
much  worse  than  his  own.  For  he  was  a man  who 
cared  very  little  for  money ; and  besides,  about  that 
time  he  entered  into  matrimony  with  that  excellent 
and  wealthy  lady,  Miss  Mary  Videau,  who,  with  her 
affections,  bestowed  on  him  a fortune  sufficient  to  sa- 
tisfy his  utmost  wishes,  even  though  they  had  been 
far  less  moderate  than  they  were.  Seeing  now  no  par- 
ticular obligation  on  him  to  continue  longer  in  the 
public  service,  he  gladly  yielded  to  his  sense  of  what 
he  owed  to  a generous  and  beloved  companion,  and 
with  her,  retired  to  his  native  parish  of  St.  John’s, 
where,  amidst  the  benedictions  of  his  countrymen, 
and  the  caresses  of  numerous  friends,  he  spent  the 
short  remnant  of  his  days,  participating  every  rural 
sweet  with  the  dear  woman  of  his  choice,  feasting  on 
the  happy  retrospect  of  a life  passed  in  fighting  for 
the  rights  of  man,  and  fondly  cherishing  the  hopes 
of  a better. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

7 he  author's  last  visit  to  Marion- — interesting  convert 
sation  on  the  importance  of  public  instruction- 
free  schools  shown  to  he  a great  saving  to  a na- 
tion. 

I OFTEN  went  to  see  Marion.  Our  evenings  were 
passed  as  might  have  been  expected  between  two  old 
friends,  who  had  spent  their  better  days  together  in 
scenes  of  honourable  enterprise  and  danger.  On  the 
night  of  the  last  visit  I ever  made  him,  observing  that 
the  clock  was  going  for  ten,  I asked  him  if  it  were 
not  near  his  hour  of  rest. 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


239 


“ Oh  no,”  said  he,  “ we  must  not  talk  of  bed  yet. 
It  is  but  seldom,  you  know,  that  we  meet.  And  as 
this  may  be  our  last , let  us  take  all  we  can  of  it  in 
chat.  What  do  you  think  of  the  times 
“ O glorious  times,”  said  I. 

“ Yes,  thank  God  !”  replied  he.  “ They  are  glorious 
times  indeed ; and  fully  equal  to  all  that  we  had  in 
hope,  when  we  drew  our  swords  for  independence. 
But  I am  afraid  they  won’t  last  long.” 

I asked  him  why  he  thought  so. 

“ Oh ! knowledge,  sir,”  said  he, u is  wanting ! know- 
ledge is  wanting ! Israel  of  old,  you  know,  was  de- 
stroyed for  lack  of  knowledge ; and  all  nations,  all  in- 
dividuals, have  come  to  naught  from  the  same  cause.” 
I told  him  I thought  we  were  too  happy  to  change 
so  soon. 

“ Pshaw  !”  replied  he,  u that  is  nothing  to  the  pur- 
pose. Happiness  signifies  nothing,  if  it  be  not  known , 
and  properly  valued.  Satan,  we  are  told,  was  once 
an  angel  of  light,  but  for  want  of  duly  considering  his 
glorious  state,  he  rebelled  and  lost  all.  And  how 
many  hundreds  of  young  Carolinians  have  we  not 
known,  whose  fathers  left  them  all  the  means  of  hap- 
piness ; elegant  estates,  handsome  wives,  and,  in 
short,  every  blessing  that  the  most  luxurious  could 
desire  ? Yet  they  could  not  rest,  until  by  drinking 
and  gambling , they  had  fooled  away  their  fortunes, 
parted  from  their  wives,  and  rendered  themselves  the 
veriest  beggars  and  blackguards  on  earth. 

“ Now,  why  was  all  this,  but  for  lack  of  knowledge  ? 
Far  had  those  silly  ones  but  known  the  evils  of  pover- 
ty, what  a vile  thing  it  was  to  wear  a dirty  shirt,  a 
long  beard,  and  ragged  coat ; to  go  without  a dinner, 
or  to  spunge  for  it  among  growling  relations  ; or  to 
be  bespattered,  or  run  over  in  the  streets,  by  the  sons 
of  those  who  were  once  their  fathers’  overseers ; I say, 
had  those  poor  boobies,  in  the  days  of  their  prospe- 
rity, known  these  things  as  they  now  do , would  they 
have  squandered  away  the  precious  means  of  irxde- 


240 


THE  LIFE  OF 


pendence  and  pleasure,  and  have  brought  themselves 
to  all  this  shame  and  sorrow  ? No,  never,  never,  never. 

“And  so  it  is,  most  exactly,  with  nations . If  those 
that  are  free  and  happy , did  but  know  their  blessings, 
do  you  think  they  would  ever  exchange  them  for 
slavery  ? If  the  Carthagenians,  for  example,  in  the 
days  of  their  freedom  and  self-government,  when  they 
obeyed  no  laws  but  of  their  own  making  ; paid  no 
taxes,  but  for  their  own  benefit ; and,  free  as  air,  pur- 
sued their  own  interest  as  they  liked  ; I say,  if  that 
once  glorious  and  happy  people  had  known  their 
blessings,  would  they  have  sacrificed  them  all,  by 
their  accursed  factions , to  the  Romans,  to  be  ruled, 
they  and  their  children,  with  a rod  of  iron  ; to  be  bur- 
dened like  beasts,  and  crucified  like  malefactors  ? 

“ No,  surely  they  would  not. 

“ Well,  now  to  bring  this  home  to  ourselves.  We 
fought  for  self-government ; and  God  hath  pleased  to 
give  us  one,  better  calculated  perhaps  to  protect  our 
rights , to  foster  our  virtues , to  call  forth  our  energies, 
and  to  advance  our  condition  nearer  to  perfection 
and  happiness,  than  any  government  that  was  ever 
framed  under  the  sun. 

“ But  what  signifies  even  this  government,  divine 
as  it  is,  if  it  be  not  known  and  prized  as  it  deserves  ?” 

I asked  him  how  he  thought  this  was  best  to  be 
done  ? 

“Why,  certainly,5’  replied  he,  “by  free  schools” 

I shook  my  head. 

He  observed  it,  and  asked  me  what  I meant  by 
that  ? 

I told  him  I was  afraid  the  legislature  would  look 
to  their  popularity,  and  dread  the  expense. 

He  exclaimed,  “ God  preserve  our  legislature  from 
such  c penny  wit  and  pound  foolishness  /’  What  sir! 
keep  a nation  in  ignorance,  rather  than  vote  a little 
of  their  own  money  for  education ! Only  let  such  poli- 
ticians remember,  what  poor  Carolina  has  already 
lost  through  her  ignorance . What  was  it  that  brought 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


241 


the  British,  last  war,  to  Carolina,  but  her  lack  of 
knowledge  ? Had  the  people  been  enlightened,  they 
would  have  been  united ; and  had  they  been  united, 
they  never  would  have  been  attacked  a second  time  by 
the  British.  For  after  that  drubbing  they  got  from 
us  at  fort  Moultrie,  in  1776,  they  would  as  soon  have 
attacked  the  devil  as  have  attacked  Carolina  again, 
had  they  not  heard  that  they  were  4 a house  divided 
against  itself or  in  other  words,  had  amongst  us  a 
great  number  of  Tories  ; men,  who,  through  mere 
ignorance,  were  disaffected  to  the  cause  of  liberty,  and 
ready  to  join  the  British  against  their  own  country- 
men. Thus,  ignorance  begat  toryism,  and  toryism 
begat  losses  in  Carolina,  of  which  few  have  any  idea. 

u According  to  the  best  accounts,  America  spent 
in  the  last  war,  seventy  millions  of  dollars,  which, 
divided  among  the  states  according  to  their  popula- 
tion, gives  to  Carolina  about  eight  millions  ; making, 
as  the  war  lasted  eight  years,  a million  a year.  Now, 
it  is  generally  believed,  the  British,  after  their  loss  of 
Burgoyne  and  their  fine  northern  army,  would  soon 
have  given  up  the  contest,  had  it  not  been  for  the  foot- 
hold they  got  in  Carolina,  which  protracted  the  war 
at  least  two  years  longer.  And  as  this  two  years’ 
ruinous  war  in  Carolina  was  owing  to  the  encourage- 
ment the  enemy  got  there,  and  that  encouragement  to 
toryism,  and  thattoryism  to  ignorance,  ignorance  may 
fairly  be  debited  to  two  millions  of  loss  to  Carolina. 

“ Well,  in  these  two  extra  years  of  tory-begotten 
war,  Carolina  lost,  at  least  four  thousand  men  ; and 
among  them,  a Laurens , a Williams , a Campbell , a 
Haynes , and  many  others,  whose  worth  not  the  gold 
of  Ophir  could  value.  But  rated  at  the  price  at  which 
the  prince  of  Hesse  sold  his  people  to  George  the 
Third,  to  shoot  the  Americans,  say,  thirty  pounds 
sterling  ahead,  or  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  they 
make  six  hundred  thousand  dollars.  Then  count  the 
twenty-five  thousand  slaves  which  Carolina  certainly 
lost,  and  each  slave  at  the  moderate  price  of  three 


2A  2 


THE  LIFE  OF 


hundred  dollars,  and  you  have  seven  millions  five 
hundred  thousand.  To  this  add  the  houses,  barns, 
and  stables  that  were  burnt ; the  plate  plundered ; the 
furniture  lost ; the  hogs,  sheep  and  horned  cattle  kill- 
ed ; the  rice,  corn  and  other  crops  destroyed,  and 
they  amount,  at  the  most  moderate  calculation,  to  five 
millions. 

u Now,  to  say  nothing  of  those  losses,  which  can- 
not be  rated  by  dollars  and  cents , such  as  the  destruc- 
tion of  morals  and  the  distraction  of  childless  parents 
and  widows,  but  counting  those  only  that  are  of  the 
plainest  calculations,  such  as, 

1st.  Carolina’s  loss  in  the  extra  two} 
year’s  war,  i 

2d.  For  her  four  thousand  citizens  £ 
slain  in  that  time,  5 

3d.  For  twenty-five  thousand  slaves  > 
lost,  5 

4th.  For  buildings,  furniture,  cattle,' 
grain,  &c.  &c.  destroyed. 


■} 


8 2,000,000 
600,000 
r, 500,000 

5,000,000 


815,100,000 


Making  the  enormous  sum  of  fifteen  millions  and 
odd  dollars  capital ; and  bearing  an  annual  interest 
of  nearly  ten  hundred  thousand,  dollars  besides  ! and 
ail  this  for  lack  of  a few  free  schools , which  would 
have  cost  the  state  a mere  nothing.” 

I sighed,  and  told  him  I wished  he  had  not  broach- 
ed the  subject,  for  it  had  made  me  very  sad. 

u Yes,”  replied  he,  “ it  is  enough  to  make  any  one 
sad.  But  it  cannot  be  helped  but  by  a wiser  course 
of  things ; for,  if  people  will  not  do  what  will  make 
them  happy,  God  will  surely  chastise  them;  and  this 
dreadful  loss  of  public  property  is  one  token  of  his 
displeasure  at  our  neglect  of  public  instruction.” 

I asked  him  if  this  were  really  his  belief.  u Yes, 
sir,”  replied  he,  with  great  earnestness,  “ it  is  my  be- 
lief, and  I would  not  exchange  it  for  worlds.  It  is 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


243 

my  firm  belief,  that  every  evil  under  the  sun  is  of  the 
nature  of  chastisement,  and  appointed  of  the  infi- 
nitely good  Being  for  our  benefit.  When  you  see  a 
youth,  who,  but  lately,  was  the  picture  of  bloom  and 
manly  beauty,  now  utterly  withered  and  decayed  ; his 
body  bent;  his  teeth  dropping  out ; his  nose  consum- 
ed ; with  foetid  breath,  ichorous  eyes,  and  his  whole 
appearance  most  putrid,  ghastly,  and  loathsome,  you 
are  filled  with  pity  and  with  horror ; you  can  hardly 
believe  there  is  a God,  or  hardly  refrain  from  charg- 
ing him  with  cruelty.  But,  where  folly  raves,  wisdom 
adores.  In  this  awful  scourge  of  laxvless  lust , wisdom 
discerns  the  infinite  price  which  heaven  sets  on  con- 
jugal purity  and  love.  In  like  manner,  the  enormous 
sacrifice  of  public  property,  in  the  last  war,  being  no 
more,  as  before  observed,  than  the  natural  effect  cf 
public  ignorance,  ought  to  teach  us  that  of  all  sins, 
there  is  none  so  hateful  to  God  as  national  ignorance  ; 
that  unfailing  spring  of  national  ingratitude, 

REBELLION,  SLAVERY,  and  WRETCHEDNESS  1 

u But  if  it  be  melancholy  to  think  of  so  many  ele- 
gant houses,  rich  furniture,  fat  cattle,  and  precious 
crops,  destroyed  for  want  of  that  patriotism  which  a 
true  knowledge  of  our  interests  would  have  inspired ; 
then  how  much  more  melancholy  to  think  of  those 
torrents  of  precious  blood  that  were  shed,  those  cruel 
slaughters  and  massacres,  that  took  place  among  the 
citizens  from  the  same  cause ! As  proof  that  such  hell- 
ish tragedies  would  never  have  been  acted,  had  our 
state  but  been  enlightened,  only  let  us  look  at  the  peo- 
ple of  New  England.  From  Britain,  their  fathers  had 
fled  to  America  for  religion’s  sake.  Religion  had 
taught  them  that  God  created  men  to  be  happy  ; that 
to  be  happy  they  must  have  virtue  ; that  virtue  is  not 
to  be  attained  without  knowledge,  nor  knowledge  with- 
out instruction , nor  public  instruction  without  free 
schools,  nor  free  schools  without  legislative  order . 

44  Among  a people  who  fear  God,  the  knowledge  of 
duty  is  the  same  as  doing  it.  Believing  It  to  be  the 


244 


THE  LIFE  OF 


first  command  of  God,  “ let  there  be  light;”  and  be- 
lieving it  to  be  the  will  of  God  that“  all  should  be  in- 
structed, from  the  least  to  the  greatest,”  these  wise 
legislators  at  once  set  about  public  instruction.  They 
did  not  ask,  how  will  my  constituents  like  this  ? won’t 
they  turn  me  out  ? shall  I not  lose  my  three  dollars 
per  day  ? No  ! but  fully  persuaded  that  public  instruc- 
tion is  God’s  will,  because  the  people’s  good,  they  set 
about  it  like  the  true  friends  of  the  people. 

“ Now  mark  the  happy  consequence.  When  the 
war  broke  out,  you  heard  of  no  division  in  New  Eng- 
land, no  toryism,  nor  any  of  its  horrid  effects ; no 
houses  in  flames,  kindled  by  the  hands  of  fellow-citi- 
zens, no  neighbours  waylaying  and  shooting  their 
neighbours,  plundering  their  property,  carrying  off 
their  stock,  and  aiding  the  British  in  the  cursed  work 
of  American  murder  and  subjugation.  But  on  the  con- 
trary, with  minds  well  informed  of  their  rights,  and 
hearts  glowing  with  love  for  themselves  and  posteri- 
ty, they  rose  up  against  the  enemy,  firm  and  united, 
as  a band  of  shepherds  against  the  ravening  wolves. 

u And  their  valour  in  the  field  gave  glorious  proof 
how  men  will  fight  when  they  know  that  their  all  is  at 
stake.  See  major  Pitcairn,  on  the  memorable  19th  of 
April  1775,  marching  from  Boston,  with  one  thousand 
British  regulars,  to  burn  the  American  stores  at  Con- 
cord. Though  this  heroic  excursion  was  commenced 
under  cover  of  the  night,  the  farmers  soon  took  the 
alarm,  and  gathering  around  them  with  their  fowling 
pieces,  presently  knocked  down  one-fourth  of  their 
number,  and  caused  the  rest  to  run,  as  if,  like  the 
swine  in  the  gospel,  they  had  a legion  of  devils  at 
their  backs. 

w Now,  with  sorrowful  eyes,  let  us  turn  to  our  own 
state,  where  no  pains  were  ever  taken  to  enlighten  the 
minds  of  the  poor.  There  we  have  seen  a people  na- 
turally as  brave  as  the  New  Englanders,  for  mere 
lack  of  knowledge  of  their  blessings  possessed , of  the 
dangers  threatened , suffer  lord  Cornwallis,  with 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


245 


only  sixteen  hundred  men,  to  chase  general  Greene 
upwards  of  three  hundred  miles ! In  fact,  to  scout 
him  through  the  two  great  states  of  South  and  North 
Carolina  as  far  as  Guildford  court-house  ! and,  when 
Greene,  joined  at  that  place  by  two  thousand  poor 
illiterate  militia-men,  determined  at  length  to  fight, 
what  did  he  gain  by  them,  with  all  their  number,  but 
disappointment  and  disgrace  ? For,  though  posted 
very  advantageously  behind  the  corn-field  fences,  they 
could  not  stand  a single  fire  from  the  British,  but  in 
spite  of  their  officers,  broke  and  fled  like  base-born 
slaves,  leaving  their  loaded  muskets  sticking  in  the 
fence  corners! 

w But,  from  this  shameful  sight,  turn  again  to  the 
land  of  free  schools ; to  Bunker’s  Hill.  There,  be- 
hind a poor  ditch  of  half  a night’s  raising,  you  be- 
hold fifteen  hundred  militia-men  waiting  the  approach 
of  three  thousand  British  regulars  with  a heavy  train 
of  artillery  ! With  such  odds  against  them,  such  fear- 
ful odds  in  numbers,  discipline,  arms,  and  martial 
fame,  will  they  not  shrink  from  the  contest,  and, 
like  their  southern  friends,  juipp  up  and  run  ! Oh  no ; 
to  a man  they  have  been  taught  to  read ; to  a man 
they  have  been  instructed  to  know , and  dearer  than 
life  to  prize,  the  blessings  of  freedom.  Their  bodies 
are  lying  behind  ditches,  but  their  thoughts  are  on 
the  wing,  darting  through  eternity.  The  warning 
voice  of  God  still  rings  in  their  ears.  The  hated 
forms  of  proud  merciless  kings  pass  before  their  eyes. 
They  look  back  to  the  days  of  old,  and  strengthen 
themselves  as  they  think  what  their  gallant  forefathers 
dared  for  liberty  and  for  them.  They  looked 
forward  to  their  own  dear  children,  and  yearn  over 
the  unoffending  millions,  now,  in  tearful  eyes,  looking 
up  to  them  for  protection.  And  shall  this  infinite 
host  of  deathless  beings,  created  in  God’s  own  image, 
and  capable  by  virtue  and  equal  laws,  of  endless 
progression  in  glory  and  happiness  ; shall  they  be  ar- 
rested in  their  high  career,  and  from  the  freeborn 
X 2 


THE  LIFE  OF 


246 

sons  of  God,  be  degraded  into  the  slaves  of  man  J 
Maddening  at  the  accursed  thought,  they  grasp  their 
avenging  firelocks,  and  drawing  their  sights  along 
the  death-charged  tubes,  they  long  for  the  coming  up 
of  the  British  thousands.  Three  times  the  British 
thousands  came  up  ; and  three  times  the  dauntless 
yeomen,  waiting  their  near  approach,  received  them 
in  storms  of  thunder  and  lightning  that  shivered  their 
ranks,  and  heaped  the  field  with  their  weltering  car- 
casses. 

44  In  short,  my  dear  sir,  men  will  always  fight  for 
their  government,  according  to  their  sense  of  its 
value.  To  value  it  aright,  they  must  understand  it* 
This  they  cannot  do  without  education.  And  as  a 
large  portion  of  the  citizens  are  poor,  and  can  never 
attain  that  inestimable  blessing,  without  the  aid  of 
government,  it  is  plainly  the  first  duty  of  government 
to  bestow  it  freely  upon  them.  And  the  more  per- 
fect the  government,  the  greater  the  duty  to  make  it 
well  known.  Selfish  and  oppressive  governments,  in- 
deed, as  Christ  observes,  must 44  hate  the  light,  and 
fear  to  come  to  it,  because  their  deeds  are  evil.”  But 
a fair  and  cheap  government,  like  our  republic*44  longs 
for  the  light,  and  rejoices  to  come  to  the  light,  that 
it  may  be  manifested  to  be  from  God,”  and  well 
worth  all  the  vigilance  and  valour  that  an  enlightened 
nation  can  rally  for  its  defence.  And,  God  knows, 
a good  government  can  hardly  ever  be  half  anxious 
enough  to  give  its  citizens  a thorough  knowledge  of 
its  own  excellencies.  For  as  some  of  the  most  valu- 
able truths,  for  lack  of  careful  promulgation,  have 
been  lost ; so  the  best  government  on  earth,  if  not 
duly  known  and  prized,  may  be  subverted.  Ambi- 
tious demagpgues  will  rise,  and  the  people,  through 
ignorance , and  love  of  change , will  follow  them. 
Vast  armies  will  be  formed,  and  bloody  battles  fought* 
And  after  desolating  their  country  with  all  the  hor- 
rors of  civil  war,  the  guilty  survivors  will  have  to 
btnd  their  necks  to  the  iron  yoke  of  some  stern 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


247 


usurper,  and  like  beasts  of  burden,  to  drag,  unpitied, 
those  galling  chains  which  they  have  riveted  upon 
themselves  for  ever.” 

This,  as  nearly  as  I can  recollect,  was  the  substance 
of  the  last  dialogue  I ever  had  with  Marion.  It  was 
spoken  with  an  emphasis  which  I shall  never  forget. 
Indeed  he  described  the  glorious  action  at  Bunker’s 
Hill,  as  though  he  had  been  one  of  the  combatants. 
His  agitation  was  great,  his  voice  became  altered  and 
broken ; and  his  face  kindled  over  with  that  living 
fire  with  which  it  was  wont  to  burn,  when  he  entered 
the  battles  of  his  country.  I arose  from  my  seat  as  he 
spoke ; and  on  recovering  from  the  magic  of  his 
tongue,  found  myself  bending  forward  to  the  voice 
of  my  friend,  and  my  right  hand  stretched  by  my 
side ; it  was  stretched  to  my  side  for  the  sword  that 
was  wont  to  burn  in  the  presence  of  Marion  when 
battle  rose,  and  the  crowding  foe  was  darkening 
around  us.  .*  But  thanks  to  God,  ’twas  sweet  delusion 
all.  No  sword  hung  burning  by  my  side ; no  crowd- 
ing foe  darkened  around  us.  In  dust  or  in  chains  they 
had  all  vanished  away,  and  bright  in  his  scabbard 
rested  the  sword  of  peace  in  my  own  pleasant  halls 
on  Winyaw  bay. 


248 


THE  LIFE  OF 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

The  death  of  Marion — his  character . 

“ Next  to  Washington,  O glorious  shade  ! 

“ In  page  historic  shall  thy  name  have  place, 

“ Deep  on  thy  country’s  memory  are  portrayed 
“ Those  gallant  deeds  which  time  shall  ne’er  erase. 

“ Ah ! full  of  honours , and  of  years,  farewell ! 

“ Thus  o’er  thy  tomb  shall  Carolina  sigh ; 

“ Each  tongue  thy  valour  and  thy  worth  shall  tell, 

“ Which  taught  the  young  to  fight,  the  old  to  die.” 

THE  next  morning,  I set  out  for  my  plantation  on 
Winyaw  bay.  Marion,  as  usual,  accompanied  me  to 
my  horse,  and,  at  parting,  begged  I would  come  and 
see  him  again  soon , for  that  he  felt  he  had  not  long 
to  stay . As  the  reader  may  suppose,  I paid  but  little 
heed  to  this  expression,  which  I looked  on  as  no  more 
than  the  common  cant  of  the  aged.  But  I soon  had 
cause  to  remember  it  with  sorrow.  For  I had  been 
but  a few  weeks  at  home,  before,  opening  a Charles- 
ton paper,  I found  in  a mourning  column,  “The 
death  of  general  Marion.”  Never  shall  I for- 
get the  heart-sickness  of  that  moment ; never  forget 
what  I felt  when  first  I learned  that  Marion  was  no 
more.  Though  the  grave  was  between  us,  yet  his  be- 
loved image  seemed  to  appear  before  me  fresher  than 
ever.  All  our  former  friendships,  all  our  former  wars 
returned.  But  alas!  he  who  was  tome  the  soul  of  all 
the  rest ; the  foremost  in  every  battle  ; the  dearest  at 
every  feast ; he  shall  return  no  more  ! “ Oh  Marion, 
my  friend  !”  my  bursting  heart  seemed  to  say,  u and 
art  thou  gone  ? Shall  I no  more  hear  that  voice  which 
was  always  so  sweet ; no  more  see  that  smile  which 
awakened  up  such  joy  in  my  soul ! Must  that  beloved 
form  be  lost  forever  among  the  clods  of  the  valley! 
And  those  godlike  virtues,  shall  they  pass  away  like 
the  empty  visions  of  the  night !” 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


246 


From  this  deep  gloom  which  strong  atheistic  sor- 
row had  poured  over  my  nerves,  I was  suddenly 
roused,  as  by  an  angel’s  touch,  to  the  bright  hopes  of 
religion.  The  virtues  of  my  departed  friend  all  flash- 
ed at  once  upon  my  kindling  thoughts ; his  counte- 
nance so  stern  with  honour ; his  tongue  so  sacred  to 
truth  ; that  heart  always  so  ready  to  meet  death  in 
defence  of  the  injured;  that  eye  ever  beaming  bene- 
volence to  man,  and  that  whole  life  so  reverential  of 
God.  The  remembrance,  I say,  of  all  these  things, 
came  in  streams  of  joy  to  my  heart. 

“ O happy  Marion !”  I exclaimed,  “ thou  art  safe 
my  friend ; thou  art  safe.  No  tears  of  mine  shall 
doubt  thy  blissful  state.  Surely  if  there  be  a God, 
and  that  there  is,  all  nature  cries  aloud  through  all 
her  works,  he  must  delight  in  virtue,  and  what  he  de- 
lights in  must  be  happy.” 

Then  it  was,  that  I felt  what  a benefactor  Marion 
had  been  to  me.  How  dear  his  company  while  liv- 
ing ; how  sweet  his  memory  when  dead.  Like  the 
sun  travelling  in  brightness,  his  smiles  had  ever  been 
my  joy,  his  example  my  light.  And  though  qow  set 
in  the  grave,  yet  has  he  not  left  me  in  darkness.  His 
virtues,  like  stars,  are  lighted  up  after  him.  They 
point  my  hopes  to  the  path  of  glory ; and  proclaim, 
that,  though  fallen,  he  is  not  extinguished. 

From  the  physicians  and  many  others  who  attend- 
ed him  in  his  last  illness,  I learned  that  he  had  died 
as  he  had  lived,  a truly  great  man.  His  chamber 
was  not,  as  is  usual  writh  dying  persons,  a scene  of 
gloom  and  silent  distress,  but  rather  like  the  cheerful 
parlour  of  one  who  was  setting  out  on  an  agreeable 
journey.  “ Some,”  said  he,  “have  spoken  of  death 
as  a leap  in  the  dark  ; but  for  my  part,  I look  on  it 
as  a welcome  resting  place , where  virtuous  old  age 
may  throw  down  his  pains  and  aches,  wipe  off  his  old 
scores,  and  begin  anew  on  an  innocent  and  happy  state 
that  shall  last  for  ever.  What  weakness  to  wish  to 
live  to  such  ghastly  dotage,  as  to  frighten  the  chil- 


250 


THE  LIFE  OF 


dren,  and  make  even  the  dogs  to  bark  at  us  as  we 
totter  along  the  streets.  Most  certainly  them,  there  is 
a time  when,  to  a good  man , death  is  a great  mercy 
even  to  his  body  ; and  as  to  his  soul , why  should  he 
tremble  about  that  ? Who  can  doubt  that  God  created 
us  to  be  happy ; and  thereto  made  us  to  love  one  ano- 
therP which  is  plainly  written  in  our  hearts;  whose 
every  thought  and  work  of  love  is  happiness,  and  as 
plainly  written  as  the  gospel ; whose  every  line 
breathes  love,  and  every  precept  enjoins  good  works. 
Now,  the  man  who  has  spent  life  in  bravely  denying 
himself  every  inclination  that  would  make  others 
miserable,  and  in  courageously  doing  all  in  his  power 
to  make  them,  happy,  what  has  such  a man  to  fear 
from  death,  or  rather,  what  glorious  thingsnhas  he  not 
to  hope  from  it  ?” 

Hearing  one  of  his  friends  say  that  the  methodists 
and  baptists  were  progressing  rapidly  in  some  parts 
of  the  state , he  replied,  w Well,  thank  God  for  that ; 
that  is  good  news.”  The  same  gentleman  then  asked 
him  which  he  thought  was  the  best  religion.  “ I know 
but  one  religion,”  he  answered,  u and  that  is  hearty 
love  of  God  and  man.  This  is  the  only  true  religion  ; 
and  I would  to  God  our  country  was  full  of  it.  For 
it  is  the  only  spice  to  'embalm  and  to  immortalize 
our  republic.  Any  politician  can  sketch  out  a fine 
theory  of  government,  but  what  is  to  bind  the  peo- 
ple to  the  practice  ? Archimedes  used  to  mourn  that 
though  his  mechanic  powers  were  irresistible,  yet 
he  could  never  raise  the  -world;  because  he  had  no 
place  in  the  heavens,  whereon  to  fix  his  pullies.  Even 
so,  our  republic  will  never  be  raised  above  the  shame- 
ful factions  and  miserable  end  of  all  other  govern- 
ments, until  our  citizens  come  to  have  their  hearts 
like  Archimedes’  pullies,  fixed  on  heaven.  The  xvorld 
sometimes  make  such  bids  to  ambition,  that  nothing 
but  heaven  can  outbid  her.  The  heart  is  sometimes 
so  embittered , that  nothing  but  divine  love  can  sweeten 
it ; so  enraged , that  devotion  only  can  becalm  it ; and 


GEN.  FRANCIS  MARION. 


251 


so  broke  down,  that  it  takes  all  the  force  of  heavenly 
hope  to  raise  it.  In  short,  religion  is  the  only  sove- 
reign and  controlling  power  over  man.  Bound  by 
that,  the  rulers  will  never  usurp,  nor  the  people  rebel. 
The  former  will  govern  like  fathers,  and  the  latter 
obey  like  children.  And  thus  moving  on,  firm  and 
united  as  a host  of  brothers,  they  will  continue  invin- 
cible as  long  as  they  continue  virtuous.” 

When  he  was  near  his  end,  seeing  his  lady  weep- 
ing by  his  bedside,  he  gave  her  a look  of  great  ten- 
derness, and  said,  “ My  dear,  weep  not  for  me,  I am 
not  afraid  to  die  ; for,  thank  God,  I can  lay  my  hand 
on  my  heart  and  say,  that  since  I came  to  man’s  es- 
tate, I have  never  intentionally  done  wrong  to  any.” 

These  were  nearly  his  last  words,  for  shortly 
after  uttering  them,  he  closed  his  eyes  in  the  sleep 
of  death. 

Thus  peaceful  and  happy  was  the  end  of  general 
Francis  Marion,  of  whom,  as  a partisan  officer,  ge- 
neral Greene  has  often  been  heard  to  say,  that  “ the 
page  of  history  never  furnished  his  equal.”  And  if 
any  higher  praise  of  Marion  were  necessary,  it  is  to 
be  found  in  the  very  remarkable  resemblance  between 
nim  and  the  great  Washington.  They  both  came 
forward,  volunteers  in  the  service  of  their  country ; 
they  both  learned  the  military  art  in  the  hard  and 
hazardous  schools  of  Indian  warfare ; they  were  both 
such  true  soldiers  in  vigilance,  that  no  enemy  could 
ever  surprise  them ; and  so  equal  in  undaunted  va- 
lour, that  nothing  could  ever  dishearten  them  : while 
as  to  the  still  nobler  virtues  of  patience,  disinterest- 
edness, self-government,  severity  to  themselves  and 
generosity  to  their  enemies,  it  is  difficult  to  determine 
whether  Marion  or  Washington  most  deserve  our 
admiration.  And  even  in  the  lesser  incidents  of  their 
lives,  the  resemblance  between  these  two  great  men 
is  closer  than  common.  They  were  both  born  in  the 
same  year ; both  lost  their  fathers  in  early  life  ; both 


252  THE  LIFE  OF  GEN.  MARION. 


married  excellent  and  wealthy  ladies ; both  left  wi- 
dows ; and  both  died  childless. 

The  name  of  Marion  continues  dear  to  the  people 
of  the  south ; and  to  this  day,  whenever  his  amiable 
widow  rides  through  the  country,  she  meets  the 
most  pleasing  evidences,  that  her  husband,  though 
dead,  is  not  forgotten.  The  wealthy  every  where, 
treat  her  with  the  respect  due  to  a mother ; while 
the  poor,  gathering  around  her  carriage,  often  press 
to  shake  hands  with  her,  then  looking  at  each  other 
with  a sigh  they  exclaim — “That’s  the  widow 
OF  OUR  GLORIOUS  OLD  MARION.” 


'«*  * • 

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